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SiillBl 


ALVMNVS  BOOK  FVND 


MARGARET: 

A    TALE   OF    THE 

REAL  AND  THE  IDEAL,  BLIGHT  AND  BLOOM; 

INCLUDING 

SKETCHES  OF  A  PLACE  NOT  BEFORE  DESCRIBED, 

CALLED 

IONS    CHEISTI. 

IN    TWO   VOLUMES. 

REVISED   EDITION. 


"  It  is  the  vernal  season  ;  for  the  heart  is  every  moment  longing  to  walk  in  the 
garden,  and  every  bird  of  the  grove  is  melodious  in  its  carols  as  the  nightingale  ; 
thou  wilt  fancy  it  a  dawning  zephyr  of  early  spring,  or  new  year's  day  morning  ; 
but  it  is  the  breath  of  Jesu?,  for  in  that  fresh  breath  and  verdure  the  dead  earth 
is  reviving."  —  SAADI. 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "PIIILO,"  AND  "RICHARD  EDNEY  AND  THE 
GOVERNOR'S  FAMILY." 

vor.uiv-E  )i. 


BOSTON: 
PHILLIPS,    SAMPSON    AND    COMPANY. 

1857. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1851,  by 

SYLVESTER  JUDD,  JR., 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


ft* 


V'  2- 
MA-lAJ 


CONTENTS  OP  VOLUME  II. 


CHAPTER  III.  —  Christianity           ......  1 

CHAPTER  IV.  —  Sundry  Matters    ......  34 

CHAPTER  V.  —  Mr.  Evelyn.  —  Margaret.  —  Eose      ...  45 

CHAPTER  VI.  —  The  Husking  Bee         .....  79 

CHAPTER  VII.—  The  Arrest.—  Deliberation  of  the  People  on 

the  State  of  Affairs  in  Livingston       .....  92 

CHAPTER  VIII.—  The  Trial           .....  *    .  108 

CHAPTER  IX.  —  Margaret  and  Chilion            ....  131 

CHAPTER  X.—  The  Execution       ......  147 

CHAPTER  XL—  Margaret  Goes  to  the  Bay    .        .        .        .  160 

PART    III.  —  WOMANHOOD. 

CHAPTER  XII.—  The  History  of  Mr.  Girardeau    .       .        .  189 


d  I 


CHAPTER  III. 

CHRISTIANITY. 

ANOTHER  day  Mr.  Evelyn  came  to  the  Pond.  Margaret 
watched  his  approach  with  composure,  and  returned  his 
greeting  without  confusion.  "You  have  been  on  the  Head," 
said  she,  "  and  I  must  take  you  to  other  places  to-day. 
First  the  Maples." 

"This  is  a  fine  mineralogical  region,"  said  he,  as  they 
entered  the  spot.  "I  wish  I  had  a  hammer." 

"  I  will  get  one,"  said  she. 

"  Let  me  go  for  it." 

"  You  are  not  in  health,  you  told  me,  and  you  do  not  look 
very  strong.  I  must  go,  by  all  means.  -  I  will  be  back  in 
a  trice.  You  will  have  quite  as  much  walking  as  you  can 
master  before  the  day  is  through." 

"  I  fear  I  shall  be  more  tired  wondering  than  in  going." 

"  See  this,"  said  he,  exposing  a  hollow  stone  filled  with 
rare  crystals,  which  he  found  and  broke  during  her  ab 
sence. 

"  I  thank  you,  I  thank  you,"  she  replied.  "  The  Master  has 
given  me  an  inkling  of  geology,  but  I  never  imagined  such 
beauty  was  hidden  here." 

"  With  definite  forms  and  brilliant  texture  these  gems 
vegetate  in  the  centre  of  this  rough,  rusty  stone." 

"  Incomparable  mystery  !  New  Anagogics  !  I  begin  to 
be  in  love  with  what  I  understand  not." 

"  Humanity  is  like  that." 

"  What  is  Humanity  ?  " 

VOI«  IT,  1 


*  MARGARET. 

"  It  is'only  another  name  for  the  World  that  you  asked 
me  about." 

"  I  am  perplexed  by  the  duplicity  of  words.  He  is  hu 
mane  who  helps  the  needy." 

"  That  is  one  form  of  Humanity.  I  use  the  term  as  ex 
pressing  all  men  collectively  viewed  in  their  better  light. 
Much  depends  upon  this  light,  phase,  or  aspect,  what  sub 
jectively  to  us  is  by  the  Germans  called  stand-point.  In 
dian's  Head,  in  one  position,  resembles  a  human  face,  in 
another  quite  as  much  a  fish's  tail.  Man,  like  this  stone,  is 
geodic — such  stones,  you  know,  are  called  geodes — " 

"  Have  you  the  skill  to  discover  them  ? " 

"  It  is  more  difficult  to  break  than  find  them.  Yet  if  I 
could  crack  any  man  as  I  do  this  stone,  I  should  open  to 
crystals." 

"  Any  man  ?  " 

"All  men." 

"  Passing  wonderful !  I  would  run  a  thousand  miles  for 
the  hammer !  I  have  been  straining  after  the  stars,  how 
much  there  is  in  the  stones  !  Most  divine  Earth,  hence 
forth  I  will  worship  thee  !  Geodic  Androids!  What  will 
the  Master  say  ?  " 

"  I  see  traces  of  more  gems  in  these  large  rocks.  Let 
me  rap  here,  and  lo  !  a  beryl ;  there  is  agate,  yonder  is  a 
growth  of  garnets." 

"  Let  me  cease  to  be  astonished,  and  only  learn  to  love." 

"An  important  lesson,  and  one  not  too  well  learned." 

"  Under  this  tree  I  will  erect  a  Temple  to  the  God  of 
Rocks.  Was  there  any  such  ?  Certes,  I  remember  none." 

"  The  God  of  Rocks  is  God." 

"  You  sport  enigmas.     Let  us  to  Diana's  Walk." 

They  perambulated  the  forest  touching  upon  various  spots 
of  interest  to  Margaret,  She  had  given  name  and  popula- 


CHRISTIANITY.  3 

tion  to  many  a  solitary  place,  and  for  a  long  while  had  been 
deepening  her  worship  and  extending  her  supremacy,  such 
as  it  was,  over  the  region.  Tired  at  last,  they  sat  down 
under  the  trees. 

"  You  will  not  relish  such  a  walk  and  so  many  gods,  I 
fear,"  said  she. 

"I  could  pursue  the  woods  forever,"  was  his  reply.  "  The 
trees  give  me  more  than  my  acquaintances." 

"  They  are  my  home,"  remarked  Margaret,  "  I  was  born 
in  them,  have  been  sheltered  under  them,  and  educated  by 
them,  and  do  sometimes  believe  myself  of  them.  The 
Master  rightly  says  I  have  a  fibrous  disposition.  I  used  to 
think  I  came  of  an  acorn,  and  many  a  one  have  I  opened 
to  find  a  baby  brother  or  sister.  Am  I  not  an  automative 
vegetable,  a  witch-hazle  in  moccasons  ?  The  Master  says 
1  am  of  the  order  Bipeds,  and  species  Shnulacrens  ; 
distinguished  by  thirty-two  teeth,  and  having  the  superior 
extremities  terminated  by  a  hand  which  is  susceptible  of  a 
greater  variety  of  motions  than  that  of  any  other  animal, 
and  is  remarkably  prehensile ;  that  it  inhabits  all  parts  of 
the  earth  ;  is  omnivorous;  and  disputes  for  territory, 
uniting  together  for  the  express  purpose  of  destroying  its 
own  kind  ;  that  I  am  of  the  variety  Caucasiana,  differing 
from  the  Americana  in  this,  that  my  feet  are  a  little  broader 
just  above  the  toes,  and  from  the  Simia  in  the  configuration 
of  the  thumb.  For  my  own  part,  I  incline  to  the  Sylvian 
analogy,  only  my  clothes  are  not  half  so  durable  as  this 
bark,  nor  my  hair  so  becoming  as  the  leaves,  and  I  must 
undress  myself  at  night  and  take  to  my  bed,  while  the  trees 
sleep  standing  and  unhooded.  Then  what  a  pother  we 
make  about  eating,  while  the  tree  lives  on  its  own  breath, 
and  easier  than  a  duck,  muddles  for  nourishment  with  its 
roots." 


4  MARGARET. 

"  You  will  not  overlook  the  mind,  the  spirit,  the  fabled 
Psyche;  the  inner  voluntary  life,  the  diversifier  of  action, 
the  possibility  of  achievement,  the  gubernator  of  matter, 
the  annotator  of  the  Universe,  the  thinking,  willing,  loving, 
aspiration  and  submission,  retrospection  and  prospection, 
smiling  and  weeping,  speech  and  silence,  right  and  wrong, 
art,  poetry,  music,  heroism  and  self-renunciation,  the  self- 
consciousness  of  infinite  aifinities — all,  all  demonstrate  the 
separateness  and  superiority  of  man." 

"  I  know  what  you  say  is  true,  and  when  I  hear  it  said, 
I  shall  feel  it  to  be  so.  Talk  some  more." 

"  The  tree  has  no  sense  of  happiness,  like  you  and  me, 
nor  does  it  possess  the  capability  of  wretchedness.  It  exists 
for  our  pleasure.  He,  the  Soul  of  all,  the  supreme  Intelli 
gence,  the  uncreated  Creator,  the  invisible  Seer,  has 
caused  it  to  grow  for  our  use.  Even  now  I  feel  Him, 
called  in  our  tongue  God,  in  the  Greek  Theos,  in  the 
Hebrew  Jehovah,  in  the  Indian  Manitcu.  His  life  inflames 
my  life,  his  spirit  inspires  my  spirit.  All  that  is  now  about 
1  us  is  his,  arid  he  in  it ;  the  beauty  of  the  forest  is  the 
tincture  of  his  beneficence,  the  breeze  is  the  fanning  of  his 
mercy,  the  box-berries  and  mosses  are  his,  the  rocks  and 
roots,  the  dancing  shadows,  the  green  breaks  into  the  blue 
sky  are  his  creation,  the  fair  whole  of  color,  perfume  and 
form,  the  indescribable  sweet  sensation  that  swells  in  our 
breasts,  are  his  gift  and  his  presence  in  the  gift  ;  they  are 
the  figures  woven  into  the  tapestry  that  robes  the  Universe, 
the  fragrance  that  fills  the  vinaigrette  of  Creation.  Through 
all  and  in  all  pierces  his  Spirit,  that  blows  upon  us  like  the 
wind." 

"  But  what  becomes  of  my  pretty  Pantheon,  Apollo 
and  Bacchus,  Diana  and  Egeria,  before  this  all-deluging 
One?" 


CHRISTIANITY.  0 

"  That  belongs  to  what  is  termed  Mythology,  a  mixture 
of  imagination,  religion  and  philosophy.  Apollo,  for 
instance,  as  Tooke  will  tell  you,  denotes  the  sun ;  and  of 
the  arts  ascribed  to  him,  prophesying,  healing,  shooting, 
music,  we  discover  a  lively  prototype  in  that  luminary.  In 
Hindoo  Mythology  is  Brahma,  an  uncouth  image,  coarsely 
done  in  stone,  which  Christians  affect  to  despise,  having 
the  form  of  an  infant  with  its  toe  in  its  mouth,  floating  on  a 
flower  over  a  watery  abyss.  It  signifies  that  in  some  of 
the  renovations  which  the  world  is  supposed  to  have  under 
gone,  the  wisdom  and  designs  of  God  will  appear  as  in  their 
infant  state  ;  Brahma,  that  is  God  the  Creator,  floating  on 
a  leaf,  shows  the  instability  of  things  at  that  period ;  the 
toe  sucked  in  the  mouth  implies  that  Infinite  wisdom  subsists 
of  itself  ;  and  the  position  of  the  body,  bent  into  the  form 
of  a  ring,  is  an  emblem  of  the  circle  of  eternity.  It  is  a 
mere  hint  at  the  highest  ideas,  and  by  its  very  rudeness 
effectually  anticipates  the  error  of  diverting  attention  from 
the  substance  to  the  shadow,  and  if  worship  be  performed 
before  it,  it  is  none  otherwise  than  what  is  done  in  our 
Churches,  which  are  styled,  preeminently,  houses  of  God, 
sanctuaries  or  sacred  places.  The  Northern  nations, 
inheriting  the  germs  of  spirituality  from  the  East,  superadded 
Beauty,  and  elaborated  the  Symbol  in  the  fairest  forms  of 
Art.  Their  Statues  also  were  an  embodied  Allegory,  a 
sort  of  Encyclopaedia  of  truth.  Now-a-days  we  have  lost 
the  ancient  idea,  and  so  split  up  our  systems  of  knowledge, 
that  a  statue  is  no  more  than  a  handsomely  wrought  stone  ; 
and  sometimes  we  vituperate  the  attention  paid  to  it,  as 
Idolatry  It  furnished  to  the  eye  what  a  written  treatise 
does  to  the  understanding  ;  or  in  brief  the  chisel  did  the 
work  of  the  pen.  To  the  Greeks,  a  statue  was  at  once  a 
Church  and  a  Book,  it  was  Beauty  and  Inspiration,  Truth 
1* 


6  MARGARET. 

and  Illustration,  Philosophy  and  Religion.  The  human 
form  is  more  expressive  than  any  other,  and  genius  seized 
upon  that  as  the  most  fitting  instrument  for  conveying 
ideality,  and  ennobled  man  while  it  symbolized  his  frame." 

"  So  Apollo  is  a  creation  of  God  ?  " 

"  The  original  on  which  that  is  founded  is  a  creation  of 
God ;  or  I  should  say,  Apollo,  representing  certain  facts  in 
the  creation  of  God,  or  certain  attributes  of  God,  his  culture 
was  observed  by  different  nations  under  different  names, 
till  at  last  some  artist,  fusing  as  it  were  the  popular  idea  in 
his  own,  wrought  the  whole  in  marble,  and  so  gave  us  the 
Belvidere." 

«  What  are  we  ?     What  am  I  ?  " 

"In  the  words  of  the  biblical  Job,  whom  I  fear  you  know 
less  about  than  you  do  about  the  Widow  Luce's  Job, 
*  There  is  a  spirit  in  man,  and  the  inspiration  of  the 
Almighty  hath  given  them  understanding.'  God  himself 
breathes  into  us  the  breath  of  spiritual  life.  This  divine 
afflatus  animates  the  embryon  existence.  The  spirit 
assumes  a  material  framework  which  it  must  qnit  at  last. 
Our  souls  coming  from  God  return  to  him.  We  are  ever- 
living  as  the  Divinity  himself.  The  bosom  of  the  Infinite, 
while  it  nourishes  us  here,  is  our  ultimate  home.  God 
creates  us  in  his  own  image,  and  we  like  him  go  on  to 
create.  He  weaves,  and  we  are  his  warp  and  filling." 

«  Who  winds  the  spools  ?  " 

"  You  are  more  at  home  in  the  detail,  Miss  Hart,  than  I 
am,  and  I  leave  you  to  answer  that  question  yourself. — 
But,  we  the  woof,  are  also  weavers.  God  weaves  and  we 
weave ;  '  He  dwells  in  us  and  we  in  him,'  St.  John  says. 
1  He  clothes  the  grass  of  the  field,'  Christ  says.  *  He  works 
in  us,'  St.  Paul  says." 

"  Did  God  work  in  the  artist  that  made  the  Apollo  ?  " 


CHRISTIANITY.  7 

"  Yes  ;  all  beautiful  works  of  man  are  an  inspiration  of 
the  Almighty.  We  read  in  the  Old  Testament  that  God 
put  -wisdom  and  understanding  into  men's  hearts  to  know 
how  to  work  all  manner  of  work,  for  a  fabric  the  Jews 
were  building.  It  is  the  energy  of  that  action  wherewith 
he  endows  man." 

"  Then  I  may  keep  my  Apollo,  and  all  my  Divinities." 

"  I  would  not  deprive  you  of  any  thing  that  shall  make 
you  beautiful  and  strong,  happy  and  chaste,  devout  and 
simple,  that  shall  give  companionship  to  your  solitude, 
ministry  to  your  susceptibilities,  exercise  to  your  imagina* 
tion." 

"  You  are  taking  the  pegs  out  of  the  bars,  but  I  will  not 
run  wild — I  am  impatient  to  know  about  Christ ;  what  will 
you  say  of  him  ?  I  have  read  some  in  the  New  Testament 
you  gave  me.  It  is  the  strangest  book  I  ever  saw.  It 
transported  me  with  an  unspeakable  delight  ;  and  then  I 
was  overwhelmed  by  a  painful  complexity  of  sensations. 
I  came  to  where  he  died,  and  I  laid  down  the  book  and 
wept  with  a  suffocating  anguish.  Then  there  were  those 
sanctiloquent  words  !  " 

"  That  which  I  gave  you  is  a  version  made  two  hundred 
years  since,  when  our  language  was  imperfect,  scholarship 
deficient,  biblical  knowledge  limited,  and  the  popular  belief 
replete  with  errors  ;  and  moreover  done  by  men  of  a 
particular  sect  under  the  dictation  of  a  King.  Of  course 
the  translation  suffers  somewhat  ;  but  the  general  truth  of 
the  Gospels  can  no  more  be  hindered  by  this  circumstance, 
than  the  effect  of  day  by  an  accumulation  of  clouds.  But 
of  the  subject  itself,  Christ,  what  can  I  say  ?  It  is  almost 
too  great  for  our  comprehension,  as  it  certainly  rises 
above  all  petty  disputes.  How  can  I  describe  what  I  know 
not?  How  can  I  embrace  a  nature  that  so  exceeds  my 


8  MARGARET. 

own  ?  How  can  I  tell  of  a  love  I  never  felt,  or  recount 
attainments  I  never  reached?  Can  I  give  out  what  I  have 
not,  and  I  sometimes  fear  I  am  not  completely  possessed  of 
Christ.  Can  I,  the  Imperfect,  appreciate  the  Perfect  one ; 
can  I,  the  sinful,  reveal  the  sinless  soul?  I  have  not  Christ's 
spirit,  his  truth,  his  joy,  so  integrally  and  plenarily,  that  I 
can  set  him  forth  in  due  proportion  and  entireness.  His 
experience  and  character,  his  spiritual  strength  and  moral 
greatness  are  so  transcendent,  I  truly  hesitate  at  the  task 
you  impose  upon  me.  That  we  may  portray  the  Poet  or 
the  Artist,  or  any  high  excellence,  we  must  square  with  it  > 
who,  alas  !  is  equal  to  Christ  ?  " 

"Yet,"  said  Margaret,  "all  that  is  lies  secretly  coiled 
within  our  own  breasts  !  All  Beauty,  I  am  persuaded,  is 
within  us  ;  whatever  comes  to  me  I  feel  has  had  a  pre- 
existence.  I  sometimes  indeed  doubt  whether  I  give  or 
receive.  A  flower  takes  color  from  the  sun  and  gives  off 
color.  Air  makes  the  fire  burn,  and  the  fire  makes  the  air 
blow  ;  and  the  colder  the  weather  the  brisker  the  fire.  A 
watermelon  seed  can  say,  '  In  me  are  ten  watermelons, 
rind,  pulp  and  seeds,  so  many  yards  of  vine,  so  many 
pounds  of  leaves.'  In  myself  seems  sometimes  to  reside  an 
infant  Universe.  My  soul  is  certainly  pistillate,  and  the 
pollen  of  all  things  is  borne  to  me.  The  spider  builds  his 
house  from  his  own  bowels.  I  have  sometimes  seen  a 
wood-spider  let  off  a  thread  which  the  winds  drew  out  for 
him  and  raised  above  the  trees,  and  when  it  was  sufficiently 
high  and  strong,  he  would  climb  up  it,  and  sail  off  in  the 
clear  atmosphere.  I  think  if  you  only  begin,  it  will  all 
come  to  you.  As  you  drain  off  it  will  flow  in.  The  sinful 
may  give  out  the  sinless.  I  long  to  hear  what  you  have 
to  say." 

"  What  you  observe  is  too  true,  and  I  thank  you  for 


CHRISTIANITY.  9 

making  me  recollect  myself.  Even  the  Almighty  creates 
us,  and  then  suffers  himself  to  be  revealed  in  us.  We, 
motes,  carry  an  immensity  of  susceptible,  responsive  ex 
istence.  But  for  this  we  should  never  love  or  know 
Christ.  In  his  boyhood,  we  are  told,  Christ  waxed  strong 
in  spirit,  was  filled  with  wisdom,  and  the  grace  of  God  was 
upon  him.  His  earliest  developments  must  have  been  of 
a  peculiarly  beautiful  and  striking  kind.  When  he  was 
twelve  years  old,  being  in  company  of  some  learned  people, 
his  questions  and  replies  were  of  such  a  nature  as  to  excite 
astonishment  at  the  extent  of  his  understanding.  We  have 
no  authentic  account  of  him  from  this  until  his  thirtieth 
year ;  excepting  that  he  resided  with  his  father  and  pursued 
the  family  avocation,  that  of  a  carpenter." 

"  What,  do  you  know  nothing  about  him  when  he  was  as 
old  as  I  am.  or  as  you  are,  when  he  was  fifteen,  or  twenty, 
or  twenty-five  ?  In  the  dream  I  remember  he  said  I  must 
be  like  him,  I  must  grow  up  with  him.  Had  he  no  youth  ? 
Had  he  no  inward  sorrowful  feelings  as  I  have  had  ?  " 

"  There  is  one  of  the  books  of  the  New  Testament  of  a 
peculiar  character,  and  it  contains  some  intimations  respect 
ing  Christ,  not  found  in  the  others.  I  will  read  a  passage. 
In  the  days  of  his  flesh  he  offered  up  or  poured  forth 
prayers  and  supplications,  with  strong  crying  and  tears,  to 
him  that  was  able  to  save  him  from  death,  and  was  heard 
in  that  he  feared,'  or,  as  it  stands  in  the  original,  for  his 
piety*  This,  as  I  believe,  points  to  a  period  of  his  life  not 
recorded  in  the  other  histories,  and  should  be  assigned  to 
that  which  you  have  mentioned,  his  youth." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  said  Margaret.  "It  describes 
exactly  what  I  have  been  through.  Did  he  suffer  all  we 
do?" 

"  Yes,  his  life  and  sufferings  were  archetypal  of  those  of 


10  MARGARET. 

all  his  followers.  'He  suffered  for  us,'  says  St.  Peter, 
'  leaving  us  an  example  that  we  should  follow  in  his  steps.' 
'  Rejoice,'  he  says,  '  inasmuch  as  ye  are  partakers  of 
Christ's  sufferings.'  " 

"  How  near  this  brings  Christ  to  me  !  It  seems  as  if  I 
had  him  now  in  my  heart.  He  too  suffered  !  How  much 
there  is  in  that  word !  and  in  this  earnest,  soul-deep-way  ! 
I  understand  his  sad  tender  look.  Apollo  killed  Hyacinth 
by  accident,  and  was  very  sorry.  But  there  was  no  deep 
capable  soul  in  Apollo,  was  there  ?  I  shall  not  think  so 
much  of  him,— I  interrupt  you,  Sir,  go  on." 

"  He  suffered  all  that  any  being  can  suffer ;  he  was  alone, 
unbefriended,  unsympathized  with,  unaided  ;  books  gave 
him  no  satisfaction,  teachers  afforded  him  no  light.  The 
current,  swift  and  broad,  of  popular  error  and  prejudice,  he 
had  to  stem  and  turn,  single-handed.  lie  grew  in  knowl 
edge,  we  read  ;  the  problems  of  Man,  God  and  the 
Universe  were  given  him  to  resolve.  But  he  was  heard 
for  his  piety,  for  his  goodness.  He  became  perfect  through 
suffering.  Supernatural,  divine  assistance  was  afforded 
him,  and  he  conquered  at  last. 

"  At  the  age  of  thirty,  when  he  entered  what  is  called  his 
public  ministry,  which  is  the  chief  subject  of  history,  he 
encountered  a  severe  temptation,  such  as  all  are  liable  to, 
and  was  enabled  to  vanquish  it ;  he  was  tempted  as  we  are. 
He  was  ever  without  sin,  neither  was  guile  found  in  his 
mouth ;  he  was  holy,  harmless,  undenled.  At  times  he  was 
made  indignant  at  the  conduct  of  men,  he  was  grieved  at 
the  hardness  of  their  hearts,  he  groaned  in  sympathy  with 
human  distress  and  wept  over  the  follies  of  the  race  ;  he 
was  persecuted  by  the  great,  and  despised  by  his  own 
kindred  ;  his  nearest  friends  deserted  him,  and  one  of  his 
chosen  disciples  betrayed  him  ;  the  greatness  of  his  views 


CHRISTIANITY.  11 

met  only  with  bigotry,  and  the  generosity  of  his  heart  was 
repelled  by  meanness ;  he  carried  the  heavy  wood  on 
wrhich  he  \vas  crucified,  and  when  brought  as  a  malefactor 
to  the  place  of  execution,  he  was  scourged  and  spit  upon  ; 
once  prostrated  by  weight  of  anguish,  even  from  very  heat 
of  internal  agony,  he  entreated  that  the  bitter  cup  might  be 
removed  ;  and  add  to  all,  in  the  extreme  stage  of  dissolving 
life,  for  a  moment  his  spiritual  vision  seemed  to  be  dimmed, 
and  he  cried  out,  '  0  my  God  !  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me  ?  '  Such  is  a  brief  notice  of  his  sufferings.  Let  me 
turn  to  other  points " 

"  O,  Mr.  Evelyn  !  "  exclaimed  Margaret,  "  how  can  you 
go  on  so  !  How  cold  £ou  are  !  I  cannot  hear  any  more  ;  " 
and  from  the  posture  she  had  maintained  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  ground,  she  fell  with  her  face  into  her  hands, 
and  followed  the  act  with  an  audible  profusion  of  tears. 

"  Do  forgive  me,  Miss  Hart,"  said  Mr.  Evelyn.  "  I 
have  been  so  long  familiar  with  this  most  affecting  history, 
that  I  know  it  does  not  move  me  as  it  should." 

"  I  only  know,"  said  Margaret,  looking  up  with  a  tender 
smile  in  her  tears,  "that  I  feel  it  all  through  me,  my  heart 
swells  like  a  gourd,  and  I  ache  in  a  strange  way.  My 
memory  and  my  sensatons  seem  to  be  alike  agitated." 

"  That  must  be  sympathy  !  "  replied  Mr.  Evelyn. 

"  What  is  that  sympathy?  asked  Margaret.  "I  never 
heard,  methinks,  the  word  before." 

"It  is  of  Greek  origin,  and  means  feeling  or  suffering 
with  another.  It  denotes  mutual  sensation,  fellow  feeling  ; 
it  implies  also  compassion,  commiseration.  It  is  defined  a 
conformity  in  feeling,  suffering  or  passion  with  another; 
also  a  participation  in  the  condition  or  state  of  another  ; 
and  also,  if  you  are  not  tired  of  superenumeration,  the 


12  MARGARET. 

quality  or  susceptibility  of  being  effected  by  the  affection 
of  another,  with  feelings  correspondent  in  kind." 

"  Sympathy,  sympathy  ! "  said  Margaret,  "  That  is  it. 
You  understand  me  now  !  " 

"  Yes  you  sympathize  with  Christ.  I  can  but  deplore 
my  own  insensibility." 

"  I  will  remember,  that  word  ;  I  like  to  get  a  good  word  ; 
it  is  a  brooding  hen  over  my  ideas,  it  keeps  them  warm,  and 
ready  to  hatch.  While  you  were  speaking,  I  felt  myself 
drawn  out  by  some  strange  affinities  to  what  you  said,  and 
when  you  came  to  the  extreme  sufferings  of  Christ,  my 
sensations  were  something  such  as  I  had  when  you  spoke 
about  him  the  other  day,  and  when  I  read  that  part  of  the 
Book,  only  so  many  things  being  brought  together,  I  felt 
more.  All  the  sadness  I  ever  had  was  revived,  and  burst 
within  me  anew." 

"I  was  going  to  tell  you,"  continued  Mr.  Evelyn,  "that 
in  addition  to,  and  despite  all,  Christ  was  very  happy,  and 
that  in  manner  and  matter  beyond  what  most  men  can  con 
ceive  of,  which  is  another  secret  in  his  character.  On  the 
last  day  of  his  life,  with  the  horrors  of  crucifixion  impend 
ing,  he  said  to  his  sorrowing  friends,  '  Peace  I  leave  with 
you,  my  peace  I  give  unto  you.'  He  desired,  he  says,  that 
'joy  might  remain  with  them."  He  prays  that  '  his  joy 
may  be  fulfilled  in  themselves ! '  This  I  think  will  please 
you." 

"I  believe  I  understand  something  of  that  too,"  said 
Margaret. 

"  There  are  still  other  points,"  pursued  Mr.  Evelyn, 
"  I  must  speak  of  the  object  of  Christ's  coming  into  the 
world,  or  what  is  known  as  the  plan  of  Redemption  by 
him.  Man  had  fallen,  if  you  know  what  that  means." 


CHRISTIANITY.  13 

"I  know  what  Pa  says  when  he  is  so  intoxicated  he 
can't  stand.  '  In  Adam's  fall,  we  sinned  all.'  " 

"  I  do  not  refer  to  that.  Eve,  of  whom  you  will  read  in 
the  Old  Testament,  ate  an  apple  from  an  interdicted  tree, 
which  is  commonly  known  as  the  Fall  of  Man.  There  is 
no  authority  for  such  a  belief.  Men  fall,  each  man  for 
himself,  when  they  sin,  that  is,  do  wrong.  At  the  time 
Christ  appeared,  St.  Paul  tells  us,  unrighteousness,  wicked 
ness,  covetousness,  maliciousness,  lasciviousness,  envyings, 
backbitings,  murders,  wrath,  strife,  seditions  prevailed ; 
men  were  inventors  of  evil  things,  disobedient  to  parents, 
without  natural  affection,  without  understanding,  unholy, 
and  so  forth — " 

"  I  shall  laugh  now,"  said  Margaret,  "  to  hear  all  that 
sanctiloquence.  I  must  have  hit  upon  some  of  those  words, 
which  nearly  disgusted  me  with  the  book.  I  have  heard 
Deacon  Hadlock  called  a  very  holy  man,  and  Pa  laughed, 
and  the  Master  blew  his  nose." 

"  Those  are  words,"  replied  Mr.  Evelyn,  "  in  common 
and  proper  use  when  the  translation  was  made  to  which  I 
referred.  Having  disappeared  from  the  popular  tongue, 
and  being  retained  only  in  ecclesiastical  terminology,  it  is 
not  surprising  that  they  sound  strange  to  you.  Rendered 
in  modern  English,  holiness  and  righteousness  mean  good 
ness,  virtue,  rectitude,  or  any  high  moral  and  religious 
excellence.  As  respects  the  other  vices  mentioned,  we 
have  now-a-days,  as  you  well  know,  war,  intemperance, 
slavery,  unkindness ;  and  then  what  go  by  the  name 
of  bigotry,  irreligion,  pious  frauds,  persecution,  simony, 
burglary,  peculation,  treason,  perjury,  kidnapping,  piracy, 
scandal,  ingratitude,  intrigue,  bribery,  meanness,  social 
inequality,  governmental  misrule,  spirit  of  caste,  oppres 
sion  of  labor,  superciliousness,  are  abundant  These  and 

VOL.  II.  2 


MARGARET. 

similar  things  are  what  the  Gospel  denominates  the  works 
of  the  flesh,  and  renders  unto  tribulation  and  anguish,  as 
evil  doing.  These  are  that  whereby  men  break  the  Divine 
Law,  and  separate  themselves  from  God.  But  the  primary 
idea  in  this  matter,  the  fundamental  law  of  sin,  the  very 
essence  of  the  Fall,  consists  in  this,  that  men  ceased  to 
love.  Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  it  is  the  first  and 
great  command ;  it  unites  man  with  God  and  with  himself. 
In  the  subsidency  and  departure  of  love,  the  moral  system 
is  revolutionized  and  human  nature  disordered.  The 
instinct  of  self-preservation  is  tortured  into  selfishness,  the 
desire  of  excellence  flames  into  ambition,  the  sense  of  right 
becomes  the  author  of  innumerable  wrong.  The  whole 
head  is  sick,  the  whole  heart  faint.  Nature  commences  a 
burdensome  contention  with  abuse,  misdirection,  absurdity, 
folly.  It  is  ever  Nature  versus  the  Unnatural.  The 
institutions  and  organizations  of  men,  founded  upon  the 
new  basis,  partake  of  the  general  corruption,  and  only 
foster  evils  it  is  their  design  to  prevent.  Love  casts  out 
fear;  in  the  absence  of  love,  fear  supersedes;  hence 
aggression  and  violence,  superstition  and  the  doctrine  of 
devils." 

"I  never  feared,"  said  Margaret ;  "was  that  because  I 
loved?" 

"  Fortitude,"  replied  Mr.  Evelyn,  "  springs  as  much 
from  superiority  to  our  enmities,  as  from  superiority  to  our 
enemies.  And  this  reminds  me,  that  the  first  voluntary 
wrong  act  any  man  ever  did  was  done  through  the  absence 
of  love.  But  here  arises  a  new  element.  We  were  never 
created  to  do  or  to  suffer  voluntary  wrong,  and  there  is 
generated  in  consequence  of  such  acts  the  sense  of  injury. 
Hence  come  all  retaliations.  A  most  mournful  fact  in  this 
matter  is  that  dissonance  arid  disorder  are  themselves  sym- 


CHRISTIANITY.  15 

pathetic  and  reciprocal.  Aversion  reproduces  aversion,  and 
selfishness  is  answered  by  selfishness." 

"  I  have  felt  that  towards  Solomon  Smith  sometimes," 
said  Margaret.  "  I  know  he  dislikes  me,  and  I  have  been 
moved  to  dislike  him,  and  I  suppose  I  should  if  I  did  not 
feel  what  a  ridiculous  piece  of  business  it  is  for  one  most 
anagogical  puppet  to  be  mad  with  another.  Arid  since 
you  would  also  convince  me  he  is  geodic,  what  can  I  da, 
but  abide,  like  the  ants,  whose  hills  though  trodden  upon 
are  patiently  renewed  every  morning." 

"  When  man  ceases  to  love,  he  is  not  only  enstranged 
from  God,  but  the  image  of  God  within  him  is  lost,  the 
heavenly  purity  of  his  character  is  sullied,  and  the  divine 
harmonies  of  his  nature  discomposed.  But  what  is  worst  of 
all,  we  are  educated  to  regard  every  man  with  suspicion 
and  enmity.  We  are  taught  in  our  earliest  years  that  men 
are  by  nature  totally  depraved,  and  since  total  depravity 
covers  every  form  of  sin  and  vice,  we  are  in  effect  in 
structed  to  believe  every  man  a  villain,  a  thief,  a  murderer, 
at  heart;  as  mean,  se'fish,  and  malicious,  in  his  secret 
conscious  purpose.  This  is  the  cardinal  doctrine  of  what 
passes  under  the  name  of  Christianity.  It  is  annually 
enforced  by  hundreds  of  thousands  of  discourses  from 
Bishops  and  Clergy  in  every  part  of  Christendom.  This 
consummates  the  Fall !  Every  youth  under  the  operation 
of  that  sympathetic  and  reciprocal  law,  to  which  I  adverted, 
enters  life  in  the  spirit  of  hostility.  To  receive  injury  he 
expects,  and  accounts  it  not  harmful  to  do  an  injury  to  the 
injurious.  The  evil  which  he  is  made  to  believe  all  others 
saturated  with  is  reflected  in  his  own  bosom,  and  so,  in  spite 
of  himself,  he  becomes  depraved.  There  is  something 
denominated  love  in  the  religious  circles  ;  I  should  call  it 
Ecclesiastical  love,  because  it  is  a  figment  of  the  Church, 


16  MARGARET. 

to  distinguish  it  from  Christian  love,  which  has  its  origin 
in  Christ,  or  Evangelical  love  founded  on  the  Gospels. 
After  making  you  believe  all  men  totally  depraved,  our 
teachers  endeavor  to  create  in  the  breasts  of  the  elect  so 
termed,  a  pity  for  this  depravity,  and  to  inspire  them  with 
a  desire  to  remove  it,  and  this  they  call  love,  which  is  no 
love  at  all,  since  an  important  element  in  love  is  that  it 
thinketh  no  evil,  judges  not.  In  what  I  have  now  said, 
you  see  not  only  the  Fall  of  man  generally,  but  also  that 
second  greater  catastrophe,  the  Fall  of  the  Church." 

"  Here  I  must  beg  of  you  some  more  explanations  ;  what 
do  you  mean  by  the  Church  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  great  body  of  men,  in  all  countries,  of  all 
denominations  and  sects,  who  profess  Christianity,  in  their 
associate  capacity,  with  their  clergy,  or  leaders,  and  creeds, 
or  articles  of  establishment." 

u  Have  the  Church  members  in  the  Village  and  those 
who  groaned  so  at  the  Camp  Meeting  fallen?  " 

"  Yes,  all.  The  effect  of  a  corrupt  Christianity,  or  as  I 
should  say  of  a  fallen  religion,  is  to  perpetuate  and  augment 
itself;  and  now,  with  very  few  exceptions,  all  share  in  the 
common  calamity.  In  the  progress  of  decline,  it  became  a 
matter  of  course,  that  the  Church  should  change  its 
standards  of  faith,  or  as  we  say  in  politics,  adopt  a  new 
constitution.  The  Gospels  or  Evangelicons,  by  which  are 
intended  the  personal  biographies  of  Jesus,  a  book  of  Acts, 
and  certain  documents  known  as  Epistles,  are  indeed 
accredited  by  all.  But  there  arose  certain  things  which 
have  practically  superseded  the  Gospels.  These  are  known 
as  Articles  of  the  Council  of  Trent,  of  the  Church  of 
England,  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  of  the  Methodist 
Church ;  or  as  Creeds  in  our  various  Churches.  And 
now  a  man  may  believe  the  Gospels,  and  aim  to  conform  to 


CHRISTIANITY.  17 

Christ,  but  he  is  not  reckoned  a  Christian  by  the  Romanists 
unless  he  assent  to  their  Articles,  or  by  the  Protestants 
unless  he  subscribe  to  their  several  Creeds.  And  they  have 
carried  this  matter  so  far,  as  to  condemn  a  man  to  everlast 
ing  perdition  if  he  depart  from  these  Gospel  substitutes. 
You  may  examine  these  devices  and  canvass  their  qualities, 
you  will  find  no  more  Christianity  in  any  one  of  them  than 
apple-juice  in  that  stone.  But  we  must  bear  in  mind  that 
the  world  had  fallen  before  the  Church  fell ;  and  it  was  to 
repair  the  effects  of  this  first  Fall,  that  Christ  appeared  on 
the  Earth  ;  let  us  return  to  him.  He  came  to  renew  love, 
and  reinstate  men  in  a  pure  and  happy  condition." 

"  But  haw  could  men  love  if  they  were  as  you  describe 
them?" 

"  Man  never  wholly  loses  his  capacity  for  loving.  The 
natural  susceptibility  to  goodness  and  truth  can  never  be 
extinguished.  Our  powers  are  perverted,  not  destroyed. 
In  fact,  there  have  been  holy,  loving  people  in  the  world, 
true  Christians,  in  all  times,  all  countries,  all  Churches, 
among  all  religions  and  in  every  nation.  Such  have  some, 
times  been  kings,  and  occupied  thrones,  they  have  been 
outcasts  from  society,  and  buried  in  dungeons.  Among 
princes  and  peasants,  the  affluent  and  the  poor,  the  learned 
and  the  ignorant,  aristocrats  and  plebeians,  have  appeared 
from  time  to  time  sincere  and  earnest  lovers  of  God  and 
man.  Some  sympathy  with  Christ  exists  in  all  minds, 
either  latent  or  active. 

"  Christ  came  on  his  high  embassage  with  credentials  of 
an  authoritative  and  remarkable  character.  He  was  the 
brightness  of  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  express  image  of 
his  person.  Indeed,  He  and  the  Father  were  one.  He 
received,  he  tells  us,  all  power  from  God.  He  was  baptized 
of  the  Holy  Spirit.  He  was  proclaimed  the  beloved  and 
2* 


IS  MARGARET. 

well-pleasing  Son  of  God.  He  had  gone  through  the  ex 
perience  of  life,  he  had  studied  the  human  mind  in  its  every 
phase,  he  understood  the  condition  of  men  and  was  prepared 
for  the  exigencies  of  his  lot.  The  thirty  years  of  his  life 
had  not  been  spent  in  idleness.  The  effect  of  his  address 
was  electrical.  Cities  poured  forth  their  population  to  him 
and  the  country  was  deserted  of  its  inhabitants  gone  in 
pursuit  of  him.  The  multitudes  that  thronged  to  hear  him, 
were  so  great  no  house  could  contain  them,  and  he  was 
obliged  to  resort  to  the  open  air  and  spoke  sometimes  from 
a  hillside,  sometimes  from  a  boat  moored  by  the  shore. 
But,  as  I  have  intimated,  his  course  was  not  without  trial 
and  obstacle.  His  success  it  was  in  part  that  contributed 
to  his  unhappincss,  and  precipitated  his  death.  The  com 
mon  people  heard  him  gladly,  a  circumstance  that  aroused 
the  jealousies  of  the  higher  orders,  who  became  his  unre 
lenting  antagonists.  With  covert  insinuation  and  open 
assault  they  pursued  him,  and  by  intrigue  at  last  brought 
him  to  the  cross. 

"  Let  me  speak  of  what  he  did,  of  the  spirit  of  his  action 
and  the  secret  of  his  effect.  Fresh  and  glowing  he  came 
from  the  bosom  of  Heaven.  His  heart  yearned  for  man  as 
for  a  brother.  His  sympathies  were  ardent,  profuse  and 
forth-putting.  His  hopes  were  high  and  bright,  He 
spared  himself  neither  privations,  self-denials,  inconveni 
ences,  disrepute  or  toil.  He  gave  himself  for  our  ransom, 
his  whole  self,  body  and  mind,  his  thought,  his  sagacity,  his 
activity,  his  health,  his  time,  his  knowledge,  his  popularity, 
his  example,  in  fact  all  he  had  or  was,  even  to  life  itself ; 
he  consented  that  by  his  stripes  we  should  be  healed,  by 
his  death  we  should  live,  and  shed  his  blood  to  wash  away 
our  sins.  He  was  gentle  and  tender,  the  bruised  reed  he 
would  not  break,  or  the  smoking  flax  quench.  Wherever 


CHRISTIANITY.  19 

arose  one  feeblest  aspiration  to  God  he  was  prepared  to 
foment  and  cherish  it.  He  made  an  open  door  of  his  com 
passionate  feelings,  and  invited  to  himself  all  who  labored 
and  were  heavy  laden  with  sin  and  evil.  He  did  not  join 
in  the  common  execrations  of  men,  or  approve  their 
punitive  severities ;  he  saw  something  excellent  in  the 
vilest,  he  would  win  by  love  the  most  ruffianish,  and  the 
profligate  he  bade  '  Go,  and  sin  no  more.'  When  he  was 
reviled  he  reviled  not  again,  and  when  he  suffered,  he 
threatened  not.  If  he  received  an  injury  he  did  not  re 
taliate,  but  committed  himself,  Peter  says,  'to  him  that 
judgeth  righteously/  that  is,  to  God. 

"  And  here  we  see  the  high  moral  perfection  of  Christ ; 
he  had  so  disciplined  his  spirit,  he  was  so  preoccupied  with 
love,  and  so  magnanimously  considerate,  that  enmity  and 
aversion,  which  in  most  breasts  give  rise  to  corresponding 
qualities,  in  his  excited  only  kindness  and  favor.  Here 
also  discovers  itself  his  sublime  Heroism,  that  he  stood 
unshaken  before  all  moral  assaults,  and  faced  undaunted 
every  moral  danger.  Yet  he  was  one  of  the  strongest 
sensibilities ;  he  wept  like  a  child  in  pure  sympathy  with 
the  distresses  of  his  friends.  He  '  took  upon  himself  our 
infirmities,'  and  if  sensitiveness  be  an  infirmity,  he  pos 
sessed  it  equally  with  the  rest  of  us.  The  insane,  those 
who  were  chained,  imprisoned  and  under  keepers,  and  who 
in  their  paroxysms  were  ungovernable  and  dangerous,  he 
approached  freely,  became  very  familiar  with  in  love,  and 
expelled  the  delusion  that  possessed  them.  The  miracu 
lous  power  with  which  he  was  endowed  he  employed  in 
ways  most  instructive  and  beneficial.  He  gave  sight  to  the 
blind,  hearing  to  the  deaf,  strength  to  the  weak,  and  health 
to  the  sick.  He  did  not  consult  what  was  expedient,  but 
pursued  what  was  right,  and  broke  the  popular  Sabbath,  an 


20  MARGARET. 

exceedingly  bold  act,  and  one  that  nearly  cost  him  his  life. 
Yet  he  was  not  harsh  and  sweeping  in  his  movement ;  he 
was  sparing  of  those  feelings  which  are  deep  because  they 
belong  to  our  childhood,  of  convictions  that  are  hone  t 
because  they  are  all  we  possess,  and  of  forms  of  public  life  to 
which  along  antiquity  imparts  an  air  of  reverence  ;  and  he 
would  not  see  the  Temple  of  the  Jews  mercenarily  profaned. 
The  spirit  of  the  Goth  and  Vandal  was  most  remote  from 
Jesus.  God  he  called  his  Heavenly  Father,  and  sought  to 
create  a  near  and  filial  relation  with  the  Divinity.  Man  he 
called  his  brother,  and  in  all  he  would  find  fathers,  mothers, 
brothers,  sisters.  Little  children,  what  is  unparalleled 
in  all  religions,  he  took  in  his  arms  and  blessed.  National, 
local,  and  geographical  antipathies  he  sought  to  correct, 
and  strove  to  unite  all  men  on  a  common  footing  of 
brotherhood  ;  and  the  Samaritans,  who  were  regarded  by 
his  own  people,  the  Jews,  as  the  offscouring  of  all  things,  he 
demonstrated  both  by  precept  and  example  to  be  deserving 
a  common  friendship  and  love." 

"That  is  what  Mr.  Lovers  said  about  the  Freemasons," 
interposed  Margaret,  "and  Isabel  and  I  were  so  smitten 
we  determined  to  join  them  right  off,  and  went  to  the 
Master,  but  he  sa^d  they  did  not  admit  women." 

"  Freemasonry,"  replied  Mr.  Evelyn,  "  is  a  partial  good. 
It  recognizes  every  man  as  a  brother  who  is  a  Mason,  but 
Christ  recognized  every  one  as  a  brother  who  was  a  man. 
Women  shared  equally  in  his  sympathies,  and  was  embraced 
by  his  love.  The  motto  of  Masonry,  Faith,  Hope  and 
Charity,  is  a  fragment  borrowed  from  the  Gospels.  Free 
masonry  in  some  of  our  States  excludes  the  black ;  Jew 
and  Gentile,  Barbarian  and  Scythian,  male  arid  female, 
bond  and  free,  are  one  in  Christ.  He  was  invidiously 
styled  the  Friend  of  Sinners,  because  he  maintained  a 


\ 

CHRISTIANITY.  21 

kindly  intercourse  with  those  whom  the  world  despised  ; 
he  dined  with  Pharisees,  the  chief  men  of  the  nation,  that 
he  might  understand  their  position,  and  be  better  able  to 
meet  their  wants.  Certain  leaders  of  the  people  were  the 
only  ones  whom  he  seems  ever  to  have  addressed  with 
severity,  and  that  not  from  any  hostility,  but  because  they 
appeared  to  him  wholly  dissolute  and  abandoned  ;  yet  his 
language,  in  the  original,  savors  more  of  a  lament  than  a 
proscription.  I  cannot  tell  you  all  he  did.  In  the 
expressive  words  of  one  of  his  disciples  '  he  went  about 
doing  good.'" 

"  I  thank  you  for  what  you  have  told  me,"  said  Margaret.     \ 
"  Christ  certainly  seems  to  me  the  most  wonderful  being  of 
whom  I  have  ever   heard.      I   have    read    about   Plato, 
Anaxagoras,     Socrates,    Epaminondas,  Diogenes,  Seneca,     j 
Cicero,  Cato,  Numa,  Confucius,  Budha,  Manco  Capac,  and 
others,  who  interested  me  a  great  deal,  but  nothing  seemed 
like  this." 

"  I  have  not  told  you  half,"  replied  Mr.  Evelyn.  "  I 
have  only  spoken  of  what  he  did.  How  can  I  describe  the 
greatest,  most  excelling  part  of  him,  what  he  was  !  It  is 
a  small  thing  to  say  that  he  was  affable,  honorable,  brave, 
warm-hearted,  truthful,  discreet,  wise,  talented,  disinterested, 
self-denying,  patient,  exemplary,  temperate,  charitable, 
industrious,  frugal,  hospitable,  compassionate,  and  such 
like.  He  was  meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  and  that  with  more 
incentives  to  arrogance  and  pride  than  ever  fell  to  the  lot 
of  one  individual ;  he  was  forbearing  when  a  precept  of 
his  religion  demanded  an  eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a 
tooth  ;  his  affection  was  universal,  while  the  sentiment  and 
practice  of  his  people  condemned  inte:  course  with  other 
nations;  he  was  self-relying  in  a  community  ruled  by 
tradition  and  resting  on  prescription  ;  he  was  pacific  where 


22  MARGARET. 

war  was  sanctioned  and  encouraged  ;  he  was  free  in  a  world 
of  bondage,  spiritual  in  a  world  of  forms,  great  in  a  world 
of  littleness,  a  God  in  a  world  of  men.  His  intrinsic 
nobility  rose  above  meanness  and  subterfuge,  and  if  he  ever 
withheld  all  he  thought,  it  was  because  he  would  not  cast 
his  pearls  before  swine.  He  was  frank  without  bluntness, 
courteous  without  guile,  familiar  without  vulgarity,  liberal 
without  licentiousness.  He  combined  tenderness  of  feeling 
with  rigor  of  principle,  harmlessness  with  wisdom,  simplicity 
with  greatness,  faith  with  works.  He  fellowshipped  man 
without  countenancing  sin,  he  mingled  in  all  classes  of 
society  without  losing  his  singleness  of  character.  In  him 
were  harmonized  the  opposite  extreme ;  of  trust  and  in  e- 
pendence,  forethought  and  impulse,  plain  common  sense 
and  the  highest  spirituality,  theory  and  practice,  intuition 
and  reflection,  cheerfulness  and  piety,  toil  and  refinement, 
candor  and  enthusiasm;  he  was  Lord  of  lords  and  King  of 
kings,  and  the  companion  of  peasants  and  confidant  of  the 
obscure.  He  was  eloquent  and  persuasive,  yet  his  voice 
was  not  heard  in  the  streets ;  he  had  no  boisterous  tones, 
or  demagogical  manner  ;  he  discoursed  of  the  highest 
truths,  yet  his  language  was  so  simple,  the  people  were 
astonished  at  the  gracious  words  that  proceeded  out  of  his 
mouth  ;  God-possessed  as  he  was,  all-engrossing  as  was  the 
object  he  had  in  view,  and  preoccupied  as  we  must  suppose 
his  attention  to  have  been,  he  was  ever  alive  and  fresh  to 
the  beauty  and  suggestiveness  of  nature ;  and  the  falling  rain, 
a  flying  sparrow,  the  bursting  wheat;  the  luxuriant  mustard, 
the  blooming  vine,  the  evening  twilight,  the  clouds  of 
heaven,  wells  of  water  in  the  deserts -of  the  East,  oxen  and 
sheep,  a  hen  brooding  over  her  chickens,  all  things  about 
him  left  their  impression  in  his  heart  and  became  the 
illustrators  of  his  doctrine.  Considering  the  fervid  Oriental 


CHRISTIANITY.  23 

imagination,  the  perspicuous  chasteness  and  emphatic 
directness  of  his  style,  adapted  to  all  climates  and  people, 
is  not  a  little  remarkable.  Made  in  all  things  like  his 
brethren,  he  was  still  one  whom  the  offer  of  empire  did  not 
flatter  or  a  houseless  night  dishearten.  His  miraculous 
power  he  used  unostentatiously  and  sparingly  ;  and  with  no 
other  intent  than  the  good  of  man  and  the  glory  of  God. 
You  have  asked  if  he  was  not  Beautiful ;  he  was  super 
latively  so.  In  the  translation  it  reads  the  Good  Shepherd  ; 
but  here  and  elsewhere  in  the  original  Gospels  a  term  is 
employed  by  which  the  Greeks  denoted  the  highest  descrip 
tion  of  Beauty,  and  if  the  public  mind  were  not  debased, 
we  should  understand  what  is  meant  when  it  is  said  he  is 
the  Beautiful  Shepherd.  Yet  it  is  not  mere  beauty  of  color 
or  features,  but  something  from  within  that  expresses  itself 
in  the  face." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Margaret,  "  that  look ;  his  eyes 
were  fair,  his  hair  and  countenance ;  but  there  was  some 
thing  behind,  deeper,  like  music  in  the  night,  like  the 
shining  of  a  fish  in  the  water,  like  a  nasturation  flowering 
under  its  green  leaves." 

"  Something  like  that ;  it  glowed  in  his  look  and  illumi 
nated  his  manner.  The  hidden  source  of  his  Beauty  was 
Love  ;  and  once,  as  his  Love  increased,  as  he  became  more 
and  more  perfect  through  his  sufferings,  when  his  spirit 
had  completely  passed  through  the  veil  of  his  flesh,  this 
inward  Beauty  shone  out  in  a  most  wonderful  way  ;  and  in 
connection  with  the  splendor  of  God  which  answered  to  it 
at  the  moment,  constitutes  a  striking  scene  known  as  the 
Transfiguration,  which  you  will  read.  That  same  look 
melted  one  wicked  man  to  tears,  and  felled  brutal  soldiers 
to  the  earth." 

"  Do  explain  to  me  one  thing ;  in  one  of  my  dreams  were 


24  MARGARET. 

three  girls,  whom  I  knew  to  be  Faith,  Hope  and  Charity, 
because  I  had  seen  pictures  of  them.  They  created  a 
fourth  whom  I  called  Beauty,  because  it  could  be  nothing 
else  but  that.  Yet  you  say  Beauty  comes  from  Love." 

"  That  Charity,"  replied  Mr.  Evelyn,  "  is  none  other 
than  Love.  It  is  an  evangelical  term,  and  there  again  our 
translators  committed  a  blunder  when  they  rendered  it 
Charity,  who  is  none  other  than  an  alms-giver.  But  Love, 
as  Christ  would  have  it,  is  something  entirely  different, 
greater  than  Faith  or  Hope,  the  greatest  of  all  things,  and 
from  it  comes  true  Beauty.  As  David  desired  to  behold 
the  Beauty  of  the  Lord,  so  that  of  Christ  was  not  without 
its  effect  in  the  rapid  spread  of  his  doctrine  ;  he  was 
altogether  lovely.  The  grace  of  your  Venus,  the  symmetry 
of  your  Apcllo,  the  colors  of  flowers,  the  brilliancy  of  gem?, 
pass  with  me  as  nothing  compared  with  the  Moral  Beauty 
of  Christ.  Apollo  is  a  perfect  material  form  ;  Christ  a 
perfect  moral  soul.  What  Apollo  is  in  the  galleries  of  Ait, 
Christ  is  in  the  galleries  of  Spirit.  The  Apollo  comprises 
all  the  bodily  excellences  of  men,  Christ  all  their  moral 
excellence?.  There  is  some  worth,  some  virtue  in  every 
human  being ;  in  Christ  these  all  united  and  made  a 
harmonious  whole.  The  Apollo,  as  I  told  you,  represented 
the  higher  operations  of  Nature ;  Christ  represented  the 
higher  operations  of  God ;  or  as  I  might  say,  the  Apollo 
represented  the  natural  attributes  of  God,  Christ  his  moral 
attributes.  By  as  much  as  the  statue  of  Apollo  differs 
from  the  image  of  Brahma,  by  so  much  does  Christ  differ 
from  Plato." 

11 1  have  thought  sometimes,"  said  Margaret,  "  of  Regulus 
going  back  to  the  Carthaginians, — wasn't  that  an  unexam 
pled  act  ?  of  Codrus  and  Eubule  sacrificing  themselves  for 
their  country,  of  Epaminonda's  magnanimity,  Arrius's 


CHRISTIANITY.  25 

integrity,  Evephenus's  truthfulness ;  and  O,  how  I  have 
wished  to  get  away  from  Christians,  sit  down  on  a  stump 
in  the  groves  of  the  Academy  and  hear  Plato  preach,  or 
squat  with  Diogenes  in  his  tub  and  listen' to  his  railings! 
When  the  Master  laughs  about  people,  and  I  ask  him  who 
is  good,  he  says.  '  ^The  Seven  Wise  Men  of  Greece.'  I 
am  sure  there  was  some  virtue  in  those  days — yet — I  know 
not  what  to  say." 

"  If  you  intend  a  comparison,"  replied  Mr.  Evelyn,  "it 
were  easy  to  prove,  being  put  up  to  it,  that  Christ  differs 
from  those  to  whom  you  have  referred,  toto  co3lo,  by  the 
greatest  possible  distance.  True,  they  possessed  many 
virtues,  but  what  you  would  glean  from  a  whole  antiquity 
seems  to  me  aggregated  in  Christ.  There  may  be  some 
analogy  between  Christ  and  them,  but  no  similitude.  How 
this  matter  stands  you  will  see  when  I  have  said  all  I  shall 
say  about  him.  Besides,  as  to  Regulus  for  instance,  there 
seems  to  be  no  basis  of  comparison,  they  do  not  stand  upon 
any  common  footing.  Among  fallen  men  there  exist  certain 
notions  of  rectitude,  which  go  by  the  name  of  honor.  It  is 
a  familiar  saying,  there  is  honor  among  thieves.  The 
Romans  and  Carthaginians  were  fallen  men,  they  made 
war  upon  each  other,  they  were  mutual  pillagers,  incen 
diaries,  liars,  assassins.  Yet  they  retained  this  sentiment 
of  honor.  Regulus  indeed,  true  to  his  word,  went  back, 
even  when  he  knew  it  would  cost  him  his  life,  a  noble  act ; 
yet  he  was  put  to  death  by  those  whom  he  had  just  before 
been  trying  to  kill,  and  possibly  by  the  friends  of  those 
whom  his  own  sword  had  pierced.  Then,  in  retaliation, 
the  Carthaginians  in  Rome  were  by  the  public  authority 
barbarously  tortured." 

"  I  see,  I  see,"  rejoined  Margaret.  "  I  did  not  think  of 
comparison.  Only  those  noble  deeds  detached  from  every 

VOL.  TI.  3 


20  MARGARET. 

v 

thing  else  have  lain  in  my  mind,  as  things  very  beautiful. 
And  while  you  were  speaking  they  rose  up  vividly." 

"  Christ's  was  no  dependent,  distorted,  or  relative  excel 
lence,"  continued  Mr.  Evelyn;  "he  was  not  conspicuous 
because  he  stood  a  head  taller  than  his  countrymen.  He 
was  excellent  from  the  sole  of  his  foot  upwards.  He  was 
absolutely  and  rudimentally  great,  and  would  have  appeared 
so  equally  alone  or  with  a  million.  He  was  un-fallen  ;  he 
did  not  stand  upon  a  platform  of  depravity,  and  exhibit 
how  much  excellence  was  compatible  therewith.  He  stood 
upon  a  platform  of  pure  goodness,  and  shows  how  beauti 
ful  it  is.  Regulns  aided  in  carrying  on  the  wicked  pur 
poses  of  the  world,  Christ  contemplated  regenerating  the 
whole  world.  Epaminondas  was  made  great  by  the  vices 
of  his  countrymen,  Christ  from  his  own  inherit  life.  Plato 
maintained  that  fire  is  a  pyramid  tied  to  the  earth  by  num 
bers ;  Christ  is  guilty  of.no  philosophical  absurdity,  and 
what  is  not  a  little  noticeable  is  this,  that  while  he  pursued 
the  track  of  high,  transcendent  truth,  he  does  not  exhibit 
the  slightest  tinge  of  those  metaphysical  speculations  that 
prevailed  in  his  time.  s  Plato  travelled  into  Egypt  in  pur 
suit  of  knowledge,  Christ  into  the  region  of  himself.  Plato 
borrows  from  the  Brahmins.  What  absence  of  that 
anagogical,  all-prevalent,  all-winsome  Brahminism  in 
Christ !  Socrates,  the  wise,  beneficent  and  pious,  lifted  a 
bloody  arm  against  his  fellow  men.  Thales  thanked  God 
he  was  born  a  man,  not  a  woman;  a  Greek,  not  a  bar 
barian.  Solon  ordered  robbery  to  be  punished  with  death. 
Anaxagoras,  when  he  was  old  and  poor,  wrapped  himself  in 
his  cloak,  and  resolved  to  die  of  hunger.  These  were  all 
stars  in  the  night  time,  worthy  of  admiration,  and  pleasant 
to  go  to  sleep  under.  Christ  seems  to  me  a  Morning 
Sun." 


'CHRISTIANITY.  27 

"  Keep  to  Christ,  I  can  afford  to  forget  all  others,  a  while 
at  least." 

"  It  is  after  all  by  approximations  we  know  Christ,  not 
by  any  comprehension.  We  must  rest  content  to  paddle 
about  in  the  inlets  of  this  great  ocean.  Consider  his  intel 
lectual  character — '  he  knew  what  was  in  man,'  his  biogra 
pher  declares.  He  had  not  books  or  teachers  ;  he  worked  at 
his  father's  bench ;  he  had  never,  as  I  believe,  travelled 
farther  than  from  Nazareth  to  Jerusalem,  and  his  doctrine 
savors  as  little  of  Jewish  hagiography  as  it  does  of  the 
lore  of  the  Rabbins  ;  and  well  was  it  asked,  'How  knoweth 
this  man  letters,  having  never  learned  ?  '  He  studied  his 
own  mysterious  nature,  his  own  manifold  necessities,  his 
own  disposition  ;  and  by  thus  first  knowing  himself,  he 
knew  all  men.  Through  himself  he  read  the  race.  That 
love,  which  is  the  secret  sap  of  the  soul,  by  which  our 
being  enlarges  itself,  the  faculties  grow  apace  like  the  arms 
of  an  oak,  the  knots  of  thought  are  loosened,  and  a  clear 
shining  intellectual  vision  is  attained,  he  possessed  in  un 
bounded  measure.  He  did  God's  will,  and  therefore  knew 
of  the  doctrine.  He  grew  in  wisdom,  and  love  added  to 
his  insight  and  fortified  his  reason.  He  was  pure  in  heart, 
and  thus  saw  God.  Christ  is  perfectly  adapted  to  man,  as 
a  well-adjusted  piece  of  carpentry  to  its  several  parts,  as 
light  to  the  eye,  as  air  to  the  lungs,  as  musical  notes  to  a 
musical  ear.  He,  the  prototypal  Diapason  of  the  race, 
studying  himself,  and  man  in  himself,  so  strikes  a  chord 
that  vibrates  to  every  heart. 

"  Christ  was  a  genius,  one  without  compeer  or  parallel,  a 
spiritual  genius  ;  not  of  the  Homeric,  Phydian,  or  Praxite- 
lean  order,  but  of  his  own  most  singular,  most  exalted  kind. 
A  sculptor,  from  the  several  beauties  found  in  a  collection 
of  human  bodies,  gives  you  a  beautiful  material  statute  ; 


28  MARGARET. 

Christ  gives  you  a  beautiful  spirit.  A  sculptor  from  his 
own  Ideal  produces  a  beautiful  Form;  Christ  from  his 
Ideal  produces  beautiful  men.  A  sculptor  sometimes  suc 
ceeds  in  throwing  passion,  action,  a  soul  into  marble  ; 
Christ  threw  a  soul  into  man.  Art  explains  nature  to  man  ; 
Christ  explained  God  to  man,  and  man  to  himself.  His 
power  was  strictly  creative,  as  it  was  rare  and  benign.  A 
spiritual  landscape  painted  he,  that  no  Claude  could  equal. 
Indeed,  such  an  impression  had  his  disciples  of  his  pro 
ductive  energy,  that  by  him  they  say  '  the  worlds  were 
made.'  A  new  Heaven  and  a  new  Earth  were  things  on 
which  lie  wrought.  Christ  was,  if  we  are  willing  to  apply 
to  him  modern  terms,  both  Art  and  an  Artist.  He  was  in 
himself  the  fairest,  self-wrought,  divine  creation.  Then 
patiently,  studiously,  lovingly,  he  went  on  to  form  new  crea 
tions.  In  Love  lies  all  Artistic  Energy  ;  from  the  highest 
love  proceeds  the  highest  work.  Praxiteles,  in  the  com 
position  of  his  Venus,  is  said  to  have  been  inspired  by  the 
presence  of  a  beautiful  female.  Christ  needed  no  other 
inspiration  than  what  his  own  beautiful  heart  could  furnish. 
But  ]  must  delay  on  this  till  I  have  said  some  other  things. 
"  Having  all  too  meagrely  spoken  of  him  in  himself,  I 
will  speak  of  him  in  his  relation  to  God.  The  Soul  of  the 
Universe  entered  into  his  soul,  and  was  cherished  there. 
The  Spirit  of  God,  as  a  dove,  descended  and  rested  upon 
him.  In  him  dwelt  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily. 
He  is  called  the  only  begotten  Son  of  God.  With  a  nature 
harmonious  in  all  things  with  God,  God  himself  sympa 
thized,  and  he  dwelt  in  God,  and  God  in  him.  The 
Word  became  flesh.  He  was  the  Bread  of  God,  he  was  a 
Vine  of  the  Father's  planting;  he  was  Irnmanuel,  God 
with  us.  But  of  what  chiefly  interests  us,  his  relation  to 
man,  I  will  tell  you.  In  this  respect  we  learn  much  of 


CHRISTIANITY.  29 

Christ  from  his  immediate  successors,  called  Apostles,  in 
whom  is  seen  the  Ideal  of  Christ  as  it  were  projected,  and 
who  manifest  in  effect  what  he  held  in  purpose.  '  As  he 
was,  so  are  we  in  this  world,'  they  declare.  This  expresses 
the  gist  of  the  matter.  Whatever  he  himself  was  he 
designed  man  to  become.  God  sent  him  into  the  world, 
through  Him  to  restore  His  own  fallen  image.  He  was 
made  perfect,  that  through  his  perfection  we  might  become 
perfect.  He  would  restore  us  by  the  infusion  of  himself, 
by  reuniting  man  with  his  spirit,  his  holiness,  his  love. 
His  wish  and  prayer  were  that  we  together  with  him  might 
become  one  with  God.  He  announced  himself  the  Way, 
the  Truth,  the  Life.  He  did  not  teach,  he  was  the  Resur 
rection  and  the  Life,  and  those  who  were  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins  heard  his  voice,  came  forth  from  their  graves  and 
lived.  '  Take  up  your  Cross  and  follow  me,'  were  his 
words  ;  '  eat  me,'  '  live  on  me.'  As  he  laid  down  his  life  for 
us,  so  are  we  directed  to  lay  down  our  lives  for  the  brethren. 
'  I  travail,'  says  one,  '  till  Christ  be  formed  in  you.'  '  Christ 
in  us '  is  the  Mystery  of  Revelation.  '  We  die  daily  ; '  '  we 
live,  yet  not  we,  but  Christ  lives  in  us.'  As  he  forgave,  so 
are  we  to  forgive.  The  same  mind  that  was  in  him  is  to  be 
in  us.  As  he  suffered  without  the  gate,  so  are  we  to  go 
forth,  bearing  his  reproach.  We  are  crucified  together 
with  him.  As  he  died  to  sin,  so  do  we.  As  he  was  a 
sacrifice,  so  are  we  to  offer  our  bodies  living  sacrifices.  He 
suffered,  leaving  us  an  example.  If  we  imitate  his  Passion, 
we  shall  reign  with  him.  The  glory  which  God  gave  him, 
he  says,  he  gives  his  disciples.  Greater  works  than  he  did 
he  declares  they  shall  do.  So  perfect  was  this  contem 
plated  identity  that  he  says,  He  who  receives  you  receives 
me  ;  and  it  was  even  declared,  that  he  who  sinned  against  a 
brother  sinned  against  Christ.  This  inner,  received  Christ, 
3* 


30 


MARGARET. 


Paul  declared,  worked  in  him  mightily.  Through  him, 
thus  received,  we  escape  the  pollutions  of  the  world.  His 
blood,  his  doctrine,  his  spirit,  his  death,  his  whole  self,  washes 
away  our  sins.  As  he  is  holy,  so  we  become  holy.  We  are 
partakers  of  the  divine  nature.  He  is  to  us  a  Moral 
Revelation  of  God ;  as  there  is  a  Natural  Revelation  in 
the  material  creation.  He  embodies,  and  sets  forth  the 
Moral  attributes  of  God. 

"  So  he  came  into  the  world,  as  it  were,  suffused  with  the 
effulgence  of  God,  raying  out  with  love,  benignity,  paternal 
affection.  He  addressed  himself  to  human  sympathies,  I 
mean  to  that  power  of  which  we  were  speaking,  of  recipro 
cating  the  feelings  and  passions  of  another ;  to  that  sus 
ceptibility  of  truth  and  goodness  which  exists  in  all  minds. 
This  was  the  medium  whereby  he  would  communicate 
himself  to  man.  He  relied  upon  the  Spirit  of  God  to 
second  and  bless  his  labors.  He  would  uncurb  the  well- 
spring  of  love  that  is  found  in  every  soul,  and  let  its  waters 
flow  out  over  the  earth. 

"  He  begins  with  saying,  *  Repent,'  or  in  the  origina  1 
Change  your  minds,  Reflect  upon  yourselves.  In  the  only 
discourse  of  any  length  which  remains  to  us,  he  pronounces 
the  Beatitudes,  which  I  hope  you  will  soon  read.  His 
object  is  the  salvation  of  man  ;  he  is  called  the  Savior, 
because  he  shall  save  his  people  from  their  sins.  In  the 
revival,  development,  and  extension  of  love,  he  would  bring 
men  to  holiness ;  in  becoming  holy,  sin  is  expelled  and 
forgiven  ;  in  the  expulsion  of  sin,  Hell  both  as  an  experi 
ence  and  a  destiny  ceases,  and  Heaven  is  secured.  On  the 
deep,  eternal  foundations  of  Nature  he  would  erect  the 
superstructure  of  Grace.  He  came  mature  in  preparation, 
flushing  with  hope,  dexterous  for  attempt.  He  looked  with 
loving  eyes  to  behold  loving  eyes  in  return,  he  speaking 


CHRISTIANITY.  31 

kindness  to  be  greeted  witli  kindness,  his  warm  heart  would 
be  met  by  warm  hearts,  his  lofty  purposes  would  kindle 
lofty  purposes,  his  holy  life  shall  stimulate  a  holy  life,  his 
gentle  rebuke  react  in  penitence,  and  his  pity  invigorate 
despair.  As  by  a  conjuror's  touch  he  would  awaken  the 
dead  soul  of  the  world.  His  Divine  Spirit  propagating 
itself,  the  image  of  God  would  reappear  in  the  face  of  man. 
He,  the  Heavenly  Sculptor,  works  on  rocky  souls,  and  with 
his  chisel  fashions  a  form  of  immortal  beauty.  Thousands 
upon  thousands  heard  his  voice  and  lived.  The  stately 
Pharisee,  the  unknown  rustic,  and  the  despised  foreigner 
became  his  converts.  To  his  resurrection  from  sin  and 
sense,  fashion  and  fortune,  multitudes  strove  to  attain; 
many  vied  in  his  crucifixion  ;  by  the  new  and  living  way 
through  the  veil,  that  is,  the  flesh,  the  carnal  and  self-in 
dulgent  denied  themselves  to  enter.  A  living  sympathetic 
response  to  Christ  arose  in  John  and  Peter,  Martha  and 
Mary,  and  hosts. 

"  A  splendid  Ideal  had  he,  which  he  called  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven ;  the  reproduction  of  himself  among  men  he 
spoke  of  as  his  coming  again  ;  the  reappearance  of  Virtue 
and  Peace,  Truth  and  Righteousness,  he  described  as  the 
clouds  of  Heaven  and  Angels  of  God.  Such  was  his  Ideal 
of  Truth,  that  while  he  says  he  himself  judged  no  one,  he 
expected  that  would  judge  the  world,  condemn  sin,  and 
extirpate  it  forever ;  and  those  who  possessed  this  truth  he 
speaks  of  as  standing  upon  thrones.  The  ordinary  magis 
tracy  of  man  would  be  supplanted,  and  all  iniquity  flee 
away  before  the  brightness  of  his  Advent.  Such  is  the 
scheme  of  Redemption,  so  called ;  a  scheme  or  plan, 
originating  with  God,  executed  by  Christ,  fostered  by  the 
Holy  Spirit,  energetic  through  human  sympathies  and 
affections ;  a  method,  as  we  are  graphically  told,  '  of  re 
deeming  unto  Christ  a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of  good 


32  MARGARET. 

works,'  of  instituting  a  l  Church  without  spot  or  blemish.' 
"  Let  rne  now  explain  some  of  your  troublesome    '  ana- 
gogics.'     The  Atonement  is  the  union  of  man  with  God 
through   Christ  by  the  reproduction  of   Christ  in  us  ;  the 
Trinity  is  this  trifold  union,  God,  Christ  and  Man :  Faith, 
a  Saving  or  Evangelical  Faith,  or  Believing  in  Christ,  is 
taking   Christ  to  yourself  in   this  living  and  warm  way, 
receiving  his  spirit  into  your  spirit,  imbosoming  his  feel 
ings   in  your  feelings,  impressing  his  character  on  your 
character,  whereby  his  whole  self  becomes  grafted  upon 
i  and  fused  into  yourself.     Sanctification  or  Holiness  is  the 
!  subsidence  and  departure  of  sin  in  proportion  as  you  thus 
i  receive   Christ.     Justification  is  God's   approval  of  you  ; 
Adoption  is  becoming  a  member  of  the  great  Divine  family. 
THIS  is  CHRISTIANITY  ! 

"The  regeneration  of  the  world  went  on  well  for  awhile; 
the  spirit  and  power  of  Christ  reached  many  nations  > 
Christism  survived  a  few  years  after  his  death,  when,  alas  ! 
the  dog  returned  to  his  vomit,  and  the  swine  that  was  washed 
to  her  wallowing  in  the  mire.  The  Church  began  its 
fall  in  the  second  century ;  Christians  became  degraded 
into  the  ways  of  the  world,  the  forms  of  Judaism  were 
revived,  a  false  philosophy  was  introduced,  and  sacerdotal 
and  imperial  ambition  finished  the  work.  "With  Constan- 
tine  in  the  fourth  century,  the  union  of  the  Cross  and  the 
Sword  was  complete,  and  in  the  name  of  Christ,  Christian 
nations  have  gullied  the  earth  with  the  blood  they  have 
spilt,  and  curdled  the  skies  in  horror  of  their  mutual 
massacres." 

"I  must  ask  you  one  thing,"  said  Margaret.  "How 
came  the  first  man  to  fall  ?  " 

"  That  question  belongs  to  a  subject  of  the  most  subtle 
nature,  the  prime  origin  of  Evil,  which  I  must  take  some 
other  time  to  discuss." 


CHRISTIANITY.  33 

"I  know  you  are  tired,  but  let  me  ask  you  how  these 
wicked  things  could  be  done  in  the  name  of  Christ?" 

"  That  name  has  been  perpetuated,  although  so  great  was 
its  abuse  that  in  the  seventh  century  a  new  sect  arose  who 
are  now  called  Mohammedans.  The  solitary  divine  virtue 
immanent  in  Christ  has  ever  found  a  response  in  the  heart 
of  humanity ;  and  such  was  the  original  majestic  effect  of 
his  name,  that  it  has  served  as  a  convenient  basis  for  delu 
sion,  error  and  sin,  craft,  .avarice  and  pride,  to  raise  their 
fabrics  upon.  Besides,  the  Gospels,  handed  down  from  age 
to  age,  have  been  held  in  nominal  reverence." 

"  You  mentioned  the  name  of  Mary." 

"  Yes,  there  were  two  Marys,  one  of  whom  was  so 
affected  by  Christ,  that  she  washed  his  feet  with  her  tears 
and  wiped  them  with  the  hairs  of  her  head. 

"You  have  said  the  last  word  ;  I  have  no  more  questions. 
Sweet  sister  Mary !  my  name,  too*  is  Mary.  O,  Tony, 
Tony  !  Your  profession  is  done  in  a  way  you  little  wotted 
of.  Toupee,  tyetop,  pomatum,  powder — my  hair  goes  for 
a  towel  to  wipe  Christ's  feet  with.  My  hankerchief  can 
not  hold  my  tears,  they  go  to  do  Mary's  service  too !  I 
have  not  understood,  Sir,  all  you  have  said,  but  it  is  enough, 
enough ;  I  am  filled  to  distention,  I  can  bear  no  more. 
Apollo,  Diana,  Orpheus,  are  you  scared  ?  Have  you  hid 
under  the  bushes?  Dear  little  gods  and  goddesses  all, 
don't  be  frightened, — Christ  won't  hurt  us.  They  have 
been  beautiful  and  true  to  me,  he  will  love  them  for  that, 
won't  he,  Mr.  Evelyn  ?  Christ  shall  preside  over  us,  I  will 
worship  him.  It  is  late  ;  I  thank  yon,  I  bless  you,  Mr. 
Evelyn,  I  must  go,  I  would  be  alone.  But  the  names  must 
be  changed.  Bacchus  Hill  shall  be  Christ's  Hill,  Orpheus's 
Pond,  his  Pond.  He  shall  be  supreme  ;  Head,  Pond,  and 
all,  shall  henceforth  be  called  Moxs  CHRISTI. 


34  MARGARET. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

SUNDRY  MATTERS. 

ANOTHER  day  found  Mr.  Evelyn  at  the  Pond,  and  with 
Margaret  on  the  eminence  now. called  Mons  Christi. 

"  The  name  which  this  bill  has  commonly  Lome,"  said 
Mr.  Evelyn,  "  together  with  the  broad  forest  about,  bring 
strongly,  I  may  say,  mournfully  to  recollection,  the  original 
population,  the  Indians,  I  mean." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  them  ?  "  asked  Margaret. 

"  If  we  may  rely  on  accounts  written  when  they  and  the 
whites  first  met  as  friends,  befroe  a  mutual  hostility  exas 
perated  the  judgment  of  the  historian,  and  disordered  the 
conduct  of  the  natives,  we  shall  form  a  pleasing  picture  of 
their  character  and  condition.  '  These  people,'  the  New 
England  Indians,  say  the  first  discoverers,  '  are  exceeding 
courteous,  gentle  of  disposition,  and  well-conditioned ;  for 
shape  of  body  and  lovely  favor  they  excel  all  the  people  of 
America  ;  of  stature  much  higher  than  we.  They  are 
quick-eyed  and  steadfast  in  their  looks,  fearless  of  others' 
harms,  as  intending  none  themselves  ;  some  of  the  meaner 
sort  given  to  filching.  Their  women  are  fat  and  well- 
favored,  and  the  men  are  very  dutiful  towards  them.  The 
wholesomeness  and  temperature  of  the  climate  doth  argue 
them  to  be  of  a  perfect  constitution  of  body,  active,  strong, 
healthful  and  very  witty,  as  sundry  toys  of  theirs,  very 
cunningly  wrought,  may  easily  witness.'  A  friendly 
intercourse  was  had  with  them  in  those  days,  e  and,'  say  the 
whites,  l  in  great  love  we  parted.'  They  are  universally 


THE     INDIANS.  35 

represented  as  kind-hearted,  hospitable,  grateful,  truthful, 
simple,  chaste.  Property  was  never  more  secure  than 
with  them,  bolts  and  bars  they  had  none  on  their  doors, 
and  one  vice  that  gangrenes  Christian  nations  was  unknown 
amongst  them,  they  never  offered  indignity  to  woman  ;  they 
were  also,  in  respect  of  drinks,  a  very  temperate  people. 
They  possessed  more  virtues  and  fewer  vices  than  Christians. 
But  terrible  wrongs  were  inflicted  on  them ; — their  young 
men  were  pirated  into  slavery,  their  population  was  thinned 
by  the  introduction  of  new,  immedicable  diseases,  intem 
perance  shed  its  baneful  influence,  inflaming  their  passions 
and  corrupting  their  morals,  the  mercenariness  of  border 
intercourse  alternately  cajoled  and  defrauded  them,  their 
several  sovereignties  were  forced  into  destructive  collision, 
and  their  entire  strength  became  the  game  of  a  foreign  and 
unknown  intrigue  ;  moreover  the  disposition  of  the  settlers 
began  to  develop  itself,  the  encroachment  of  a  foreign  and 
malign  jurisdiction  alarmed  them,  and  they  awoke  to  a 
sense  of  the  value  of  what  they  had  in  their  simplicity 
surrendered  ;  hence  conflict,  in  which  they  were  driven  to 
every  resort,  for  the  defence  of  their  rights,  the  recovery  of 
empire,  and  the  preservation  of  existence  itself  ; — and  now 
they  assume  a  new  attitude,  as  all  men  do  in  similar 
circumstances.  They  exhibit  a  melancholy  instance  of  the 
reflex,  reciprocal  action  of  evil,  agreeably  to  a  law  that  we 
before  talked  about.  And  yet,  if  we  would  give  to  their 
revenge  the  name  of  reprisals,  call  their  subtlety  and 
cunning  military  manoeuvres,  their  hatred  patriotic  pride, 
if  we  would  render  their  ferocity  gallant  behavior,  record 
their  cruelties  as  vigorous  measures  for  disarming  "an 
enemy,  and  if,  instead  of  distinguishing  them  as  savages,  we 
should  write  them  simply  Americans,  they  would  not 
appear  very  unlike  other  people  of  the  globe." 


y 


36  MARGARET. 

"  It  is  not  so  bad  a  thing  for  me  to  be  called  an  Indian 
after  all,"  said  Margaret.  "  Yesterday  I  felt  that  I  was  a 
Christian,  I  don't  know  but  I  had  better  remain  an  Indian." 

"  I  told  you  there  was  a  difference  between  Ecclesiastical 
Christians  and  Evangelical  Christians." 

"  I  would  call  myself  a  Christoid,  a  Christman,  or  any 
thing.  I  wanted  to  tell  you  how  glad  I  was  I  persuaded 
Nimrod,  my  brother,  not  to  enlist,  when  they  were  about 
awhile  since  after  soldiers  to  go  against  the  Indians  on  the 
Ohio." 

"  Poor  Indians  !  "VYe  have  driven  them  from  their 
reserves  in  the  West,  and  they  may  at  last  be  compelled  to 
take  refuge  in  the  forests  of  the  Mississippi,  or  even  to  cross 
its  waters  for  defence." 

"  I  know  one  Indian,"  said  Margaret,  "  an  old  man,  who 
comes  here  every  year,  and  has  come  ever  since  I  can 
remember.  He  lives  in  the  blue  yonder,  on  the  sides  of 
Umkidden.  He  looks  very  old,  as  if  he  had  seen  a  hun 
dred  years.  Yet  he  is  tall  and  straight,  has  fine  muscular 
proportions,  and  passes  the  house  with  a  taught,  Junonian 
step.  He  comes  and  sits  up  here.  He  makes  his  annual 
visit  in  Autumn,  when  the  frosts  have  fallen  and  the  leaves 
change  and  drop.  He  is  silent  almost  as  Jupiter  himself, 
and  I  cannot  get  much  out  of  him.  His  expression  is 
majestically  sad,  a  sort  of  Promethean  look.  He  some 
times  brings  a  little  girl  with  him,  whom  I  have  more  than 
once  induced  to  play  with  me.  She  says  he  is  her  grand 
father.  Here  he  sits  in  a  sort  of  brown  study,  and  muses 
over  the  water  and  wood.  His  hair  is  tied  in  a  knot  be 
hind,  and  surmounted  with  a  coronet  of  white  heron's 
feathers  ;  he  wears  a  robe  of  tambored  deer-skin.  I  have 
seen  him  stop  and  listen  to  Chilion's  music,  and  once  the 
girl  gave  me  a  pair  of  beaded  moccasons,  in  return,  I  sup 
pose,  for  my  bread  nnd  rider." 


THE     INDIANS.  37 

"  He  is  probably  a  relic  of  the  departed  race,  and  comes 
to  look  upon  the  home  of  his  ancestors.  He  may  have 
lived  hereabouts.  A  distinguished  tribe  of  Indians  former 
ly  occupied  the  borders  of  the  River.  They  always 
selected  the  most  fertile  and  picturesque  spots  for  their 
residences.  And  truly  this  was  a  goodly  heritage.  The 
Connecticut,  the  Merrimac,  the  Kennebec,  the  Penobscot 
were  their  noble  rivers.  The  early  voyagers  whom  I  have 
quoted  to  you  seem,  in  these  aboriginal  regions,  to  have 
found  the  lost  Eden.  '  This  main,'  say  they, '  is  the  goodliest 
continent  that  we  ever  saw.  The  land  is  replenished  with 
fair  fields,  and  in  them  fragrant  flowers,  also  meadows, 
and  hedged  in  with  stately  groves,  being  furnished  with 
brooks  of  sweet  water,  and  large  rivers.'  They  raised 
corn  in  their  meadows,  beans  and  melons  in  their  gar 
dens.  They  had  plums,  cherries  and  grapes.  The  Indian 
children  gathered  strawberries  in  the  Spring  and  wortler 
berries  in  the  Fall.  Their  maidens  found  violets,  lilies-of- 
the-valley,  and  numerous  flowers  in  the  fields  and  forests 
just  as  you  do.  God  they  called  by  various  names, 
Squanto,  Kishton,  Manito,  Areouski." 

"  What  a  pity  they  should  not  be  here  still ;  and  I — I 
would  willingly  be  not,"  observed  Margaret,  dropping  her 
head  upon  her  hand. 

"  They  were  not  always  at  peace  among  themselves. 
The  Maquas,  an  imperious  race,  did  much  harm  to  the 
others,  and  threatened  universal  supremacy.  But  they  are 
gone.  For  reasons  which  we  cannot  well  understand,  the 
red  gives  place  to  the  white  man.  With  their  wigwams 
and  canoes,  their  gods  and  their  pawwas,  their  government 
and  titles,  their  language  and  manners,  they  have  van 
ished  forever.  No  trace  of  them  remains,  except  in  the 
names  of  a  few  localities.  The  way  is  cleared  for  a  new 

VOL.  ii.  4 


38  MARGARET. 

population,  a  new  religion,  new  society,  new  life.  We  wait 
to  see  what  will  be  done.  New  England  is  swept  and 
garnished ;  it  is  an  unencumbered  region." 

"  Do  I  live  in  New  England." 

"  Yes,  you  are  a  New  Englander." 

"  Mehercule  !  I  thought  I  lived  any  where  between  the 
sky  and  this  most  anagogical  rotundity,  and  have  been  en 
tertaining  my  later  years  with  soap-bubbling  a  few  divinities 
— I  will  be  serious,  Mr.  Evelyn,  I  do  know  the  realities  of 
things.  But  how  the  gods  chase  one  another  over  the 
world,  Manitou,  Jupiter,  Jehovah !  Are  not  New  Eng- 
landers  like  Old  Englanders,  and  Old  Englanders  like  the 
Hindoos?" 

"  Men  are  all  formed  of  one  blood  ;  yet  there  are  speci 
fic  differences.  But  God  is  one,  and  if  New  Englanders 
were  pure  in  heart,  as  Christ  says,  they  would  see  Him,  and 
that  more  truly  perhaps  than  any  other  people.  Yet  many 
of  them  ascribe  acts  to  their  God  which  would  disgrace  a 
heathen  deity.  This  results  from  the  debased  state  of  the 
public  mind ;  or  rather  I  should  say,  from  the  debased  doc 
trines  of  a  fallen  church  which  have  been  transmitted  to  us. 
Still  in  many  respects  we  have  an  advantage  over  all 
other  nations,  which  it  is  worth  your  while  to  think  of." 

"  Thoughts  are  coming  upon  me  plenty  as  blackberries, 
and  the  more  the  better." 

"  A  good  part  of  the  Old  World  on  its  passage  to  the 
New  was  lost  overboard.  Our  ancestors  were  very  con 
siderably  cleansed  by  the  dashing  waters  of  the  Atlantic. 
We  have  no  monarchical  supremacy,  no  hereditary  prero 
gatives,  no  patent  nobility,  no  Kings,  and  but  few  Bishops, 
by  especial  Divine  interposition.  The  gift  of  God  is 
with  the  virtuous  and  truthful.  '  All  men  are  equal,'  is 
our  favorite  motto ;  and  it  is  one  of  far-piercing,  greatly 


NEW   ENGLAND.  39 

humanizing,  radically  reforming  force,  though  now  but  little 
understood.  Many  things  that  affect  character  and  condition, 
in  the  Old  World,  adulterate  truth,  perpetuate  error, 
degrade  society  and  life,  sully  the  soul,  and  retard  improve 
ment,  we  have  not.  I  intend  to  take  a  trip  thither  soon, 
and  shall  see  what  they  are  of  and  for." 

"  Are  you  going  away  ?  " 

"  My  health  and  taste  both  require  a  sea  voyage,  which 
I  shall  make  as  soon  as  Bonaparte  and  Mr,  Pitt  settle  their 
differences  a  little. — There  are  no  fairies  in  our  meadows, 
and  no  elves  to  spirit  away  our  children.  Our  wells  are 
drugged  by  no  saint,  arid  of  St.  Winifred  we  have  never 
heard.  Our  rivers  harbor  no  nereids,  they  run  on  the  Sab 
bath,  and  are  all  sacred  alike,  Mill  Brook  as  the  Ganges  ; 
and  there  is  no  reason  why  the  Pond  of  Mons  Christi 
should  not  become  as  celebrated  as  the  Lake  of  Zurich.  In 
the  clefts  of  our  rocks  abide  the  souls  of  no  heroes,  no 
spirits  of  the  departed  inhabit  our  hills,  nor  are  our  moun 
tains  the  seats  of  any  gods ;  Olympus,  Sinai,  Othus,  Pico- 
Adam,  Umkidden,  Washington,  Monadnock,  Holyoke, 
Ktaadin,  it  is  all  one.  The  Valley  of  the  Housatonic  is 
beautiful  as  the  Vale  of  Tempe,  or  of  Cashmere,  and  as 
oracular.  We  have  no  resorts  for  pilgrims,  no  shrines  for 
the  devout,  no  summits  looking  into  Paradise.  We  have  no 
traditions,  legends,  fables,  and  scarcely  a  history.  Our 
galleries  are  no  cenotaphic  burial  grounds  of  ages  past ;  we 
have  no  Haddon  Hall  or  Raby  Castle  Kitchen  ;  no  chapels 
or  abbeys,  no  broken  arches  or  castled  crags.  You  find 
these  woods  as  inspiring  as  those  of  Etruria  or  Mamre. 
Robin-Good-Fellow  is  unknown,  and  the  Devil  haunts  our 
theology,  not  our  houses,  and  I  see  in  the  last  edition  of  the 
Primer  his  tail  is  entirely  abridged.  No  hideous  ghosts 
appear  at  cock-crowing.  Witches  have  quite  vanished, 


40  MARGARET. 

and  omens  from  sneezing  and  itching  must  soon  follow.  At 
least  in  all  these  things  there  is  a  sensible  change  in  the 
public  mind.  If  the  girls  put  wedding-cake  under  their 
pillows  to  dream  upon,  it  is  rather  sport  than  magic. 
Astrology,  Alchemy,  Physiognomy  and  Necromancy  are 
fast  dying  out,  and  Animal  Magnetism  has  not  ventured  to 
cross  the  sea.  January  and  May  are  not,  as  in  the  Old 
World,  unlucky  months,  and  Friday  is  rapidly  losing  its 
evil  eye.  At  marriages  the  bride  is  not  obliged  to  throw 
her  shoe  at  the  company ;  at  births,  we  have  no  Ragged 
Shirt  or  Groaning  Cheese  ;  if  a  child  die  unbaptized,  it  is 
not  thought  to  wander  in  woods  and  solitudes  ;  at  deaths 
our  common  people  do  not  cover  up  the  looking-glasses. 
Ecclesiastical  Holidays  have  a  precarious  hold  on  New 
Englanders  ;  curses  are  not  denounced  upon  sinners,  Ash 
Wednesday  ;  we  have  no  Whitsuntide  given  to  bearbaiting, 
drunkenness  and  profligacy  ;  Trinity  Sunday  our  bachelors 
do  not  kiss  our  maidens  three  times  in  honor  of  that 
mystery ;  bread  baked  on  Christmas  eve  turns  mouldy  as 
soon  as  any  other  ;  we  are  not  obliged  to  use  tansy  to  purge 
our  stomachs  of  fish  eaten  in  Lent.  In  our  churchyards 
bodies  are  buried  on  the  North  as  well  as  the  South  side. 
There  is  no  virtue  in  the  points  of  compass  that  our  clergy 
repeat  the  Creed  looking  towards  the  East,  and  none  in 
wood  that  we  bow  to  the  Altar. 

"  All  these  things  our  fathers  left  behind  in  England,  or 
they  we're  brushed  away  by  contact  with  the  thick,  spiny 
forests  of  America.  Our  atmosphere  is  transparent,  un 
occupied,  empty  from  the  bottom  of  our  wells  to  the  zenith, 
and  throughout  the  entire  horizontal  plane.  It  has  no 
superstitious  inhabitancy,  no  darkening  prevalence,  no 
vague  magistracy,  no  Manichean  bisection.  As  you  say, 
Manitou  is  gone,  and  with  due  courtesy  to  your  Pantheon, 


NEW   ENGLAND.  41 

the  One  God  supervenes  ;  there  is  no  intermediation  but 
Christ ;  and  for  man,  the  bars  are  let  down.  Our  globe 
stands  on  no  elephant,  but  swings  clear  in  open,  boundless 
space  ;  it  is  trammelled  by  no  Northern  Snake,  and  circum 
vented  by  no  Oriental  Sea  of  Milk.  We  have  no  Hindoo 
caste,  and  Negro  Slavery  is  virtually  extinct  in  New 
England.  Education  is  universally  encouraged,  and  Free 
dom  of  Opinion  tolerated." 

"  So  you  think  New  Englanders  are  the  best  people  on 
the  Earth?" 

"  I  think  they  might  become  such  ;  or  rather  I  think  they 
might  lead  the  august  procession  of  the  race  to  Human 
Perfectibility ;  that  here  might  be  revealed  the  Coming  of 
the  Day  of  the  Lord  wherein  the  old  Heavens  of  sin  and 
error  should  be  dissolved,  and  a  New  Heaven  and  New 
Earth  be  established  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness.  I 
see  nothing  to  prevent  our  people  reassuming  the  old 
Hyperionic  type,  rising  head  and  shoulders  to  the  clouds, 
crowding  out  Jupiter  and  Mars,  being  filled,  as  the  Apostle 
says,  with  all  the  fulness  of  God,  reaching  the  stature  of 
perfect  men  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  reimpressing  upon  the 
world  the  lost  image  of  its  Maker. 

"  NEW  ENGLAND  !  my  birthplace,  my  chosen  pilgrimage, 
I  love  it.  I  love  its  earth  and  its  sky,  and  the  souls  of  its 
people.  They,  the  Unconquerable,  could  alone  subdue  its 
ruggedness,  and  they  are  alone  worthy  to  enjoy  its 
amenities.  I  love  the  old  folks  and  the  children  ;  I  love 
the  enterprise  of  its  youth  and  honorable  toil  of  its  man 
hood.  I  love  its  snows  and  its  grass,  its  hickory  fires  and 
its  corn-bread.  The  seeds  of  infinite  good,  of  eternal  truth, 
are  already  sown  in  many  minds ;  these  might  germinate 
in  another  generation,  and  in  the  third  bear  fruit.  High 

Calculation,  which  is  only  the  symbol  of  a  higher  Moral 

4* 


42  MARGARET. 

Sense,  is  even  now  at  work  ;  and  they  are  ripping  up  the 
earth  for  a  Canal  from  Worcester  to  Providence;  and  what 
shall  next  be  done,  who  knows  ?  Only,  if  love  lay  at  the 
heart  of  all  things,  thought  and  action,  what  might  not  be  ! 
But  how  stint  we  ourselves !  Politics,  society,  life,  the 
Church,  love,  aim,  what  are  they  all  ?  " 

"  Why  don't  you  lead  off  yourself  in  this  matter !  You 
shall  be  a  Hero,  the  days  of  Chivalry  shall  be  renewed." 

"  I !  I  have  neither  health  nor  spirit.  I  only  perceive,  I 
only  deplore." 

"  Really,  we  must  go  to  the  Widow's  without  delay,  and 
get  some  of  the  Nommernisstortumbug  ;  that  will  cure  you. 
Speaking  of  the  Widow,  I  think  of  Rose,  poor  Rose.  I 
asked  her  to  come  with  me  and  see  you  to-day;  she 
hesitated,  and  declined.  I  told  her  you  would  speak  better 
to  her  than  any  body  else.  She  shook  her  head  mournfully, 
and  said,  l  Only  you,  Margaret,  only  you  ! '  What  can  we 
do  for  her  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,  I  am  sure,  I  have  turned  over  the 
account  you  gave  me  of  her.  I  am  persuaded  she  has  some 
chord  that  could  be  reached,  some  secret  self  to  be 
disclosed." 

"  Can  you  send  me  for  no  hammer  that  will  break  her  to 
pieces  ?  " 

"  Christ  might  reach  her,  if  nothing  else." 

"  O  no.  She  has  a  perfect  horror  of  that  name.  She 
hates  it  worse  than  I  did ;  I  only  langhed  at  it,  she  seems 
to  loathe  it  inwardly.  Said  I,  '  Rose,  Christ  loves  you,  he 
suffered  for  you,  can't  you  have  faith  in  him  ?  ' — '  In  the 
name  of  mercy  ! '  she  cried  '  if  you  won't  kill  me,  Margaret, 
don't  speak  of  that,'  and  so  shut  my  mouth,  and  I  could  say 
no  more." 


BE    KIND    TO    ROSE.  43 

"I  think  T  see  how  it  is ;  I  believe  I  understand  the 
difficulty,  so  far  at  least  as  that  demonstration  is  con 
cerned." 

"  I  can  very  well  understand  how  a  person  might  not 
like  the  name  of  Christ,  how  it  might  otfend  one  ;  but  that 
it  should  give  a  shuddering  pain  quite  poses  me." 

"  Be  good  and  kind  to  Rose,  and  she  may  yet  listen  to 
to  you." 

"  I  have  borne  her  deep  in  my  heart,  I  have  felt  most 
strange  motions  towards  her,  I  am  ready  to  melt  and  flow 
into  her,  and  much  sorrowful  feeling  she  gives  me,  and  I 
am  willing  to  have  for  her." 

"  Persevere,  and  I  am  confident  she  will  yield.  I  might 
say  many  things  of  what  I  think  about  her,  but  perhaps  it 
were  of  no  use.  I  am  willing  to  leave  her  with  you,  though 
if  it  were  in  my  power  I  should  be  glad  to  see  her.  When 
shall  I  find  you  at  leisure  again  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  I  must  spin,  next  day  help  Chilion  on  his 
baskets.  There  is  Sunday  when  we  do  not  work,  come 
then." 

"I  go  to  Church." 

"  Sakes  alive !  so  you  do.  I  quite  forgot  you  belonged 
to  the  fallen  race  !  " 

"  I  told  you  all  had  some  excellences  ;  and  if  you  would 
come  and  hear  Parson  "Welles  you  might  think  so  too.  He 
is  serious-minded,  his  prayers  are  earnest,  his  sermons  have 
good  sense,  and  the  place  itself  is  grateful  to  one's  feelings. 
Perhaps  in  no  one  more  than  in  him  would  you  see 
the  struggle  that  goes  on  between  Nature  and  the  Unnatural. 
Nor  is  it  easy  to  overcome  the  effect  of  education  so  but 
that  old  erroneous  influences  seem  to  minister  to  one's 
spiritual  peace,  and  I  find  going  to  Meeting  very  pleasant." 


44  MARGARET. 


"  It  is  not  indeed,"  replied  Margaret  laughing,  "  and  I 
find  much  pleasure  in  staying  at  home." 

"  Monday,  I  may  see  you  ?  " 

"  After  washing.  Besides,  you  have  left  me  enough  for 
a  three  days'  rumination,  at  least.*' 


45 


CHAPTER  V. 

MR.  EVELYN  UNEXPECTEDLY  DETAINED. — MARGARET  GOES 
AFTER  HIM,  IS  ABSENT  FROM  HOME  SOME  WEEKS. — HE 
RETURNS  WITH  HER  TO  THE  POND,  IN  THE  FALL. — WHEN 
ALSO  ROSE  MAKES  HERSELF  COMPANIONABLE. 

MONDAY  came,  but  not  Mr.  Evelyn,  nor  did  the  whole 
week  bring  him.  His  absence  can  be  accounted  for.  He 
exhibited  symptoms  of  a  disease  that  was  the  terror  and 
scourge  of  the  age,  the  Small  Pox.  He  was  from  a  town 
on  the  sea-board  where  the  infection  raged.  The  people  of 
Livingston  became  alarmed,  town  meetings  were  held,  a 
Pock  House  was  established,  Mr.  Evelyn  conveyed  thither, 
and  a  general  beating  up  for  patients  was  had  throughout 
the  region.  All  who  had  been  exposed  were  ordered  to  the 
Hospital,  and  candidates  for  the  disease  universally  were 
taken  thither.  Margaret  and  Obed  were  sent  for;  Rose 
escaped  to  the  woods. 

The  house  selected  for  the  terrible  ordeal  \vas  that  known 
as  Col.  Welch's,  the  Tory  absentee,  now  used  as  a  Poor 
House,  a  large  building,  occupying  a  commanding  site  on 
the  west  side  of  the  village,  north  of  Deacon  Hadlock's 
Pasture,  and  detached  from  the  highway  by  a  deep  front 
yard,  that  had  been  once  ornamented  with  gravel  walks 
and  flower-beds,  but  of  late  years  was  abandoned  to  swine. 
In  the  rear  was  a  grove  and  a  hill  covered  with  the  ruins 
of  a  summer-house.  Above  the  ridge  of  the  Hospital  on  a 
long  pole  waved  a  blood-red  flag,  an  admonition  to  all  of 
the  fearful  malady  that  was  at  work  therein.  Guards 
patroled  about  the  premises  to  prevent  unlicensed  ingress 
or  departure. 


46  MARGARET. 

Margaret  was  shut  in  a  room  with  several  other  young 
ladies  then  and  there  awaiting  the  process  of  inoculation  by 
Dr.  Spoor.  Among  the  number  she  found  Isabel  Weeks, 
who  introduced  her  to  Susan  Morgridge.  It  being  sup 
posed  that  Margaret  and  Susan  might  have  received  the 
disease  in  the  natural  way,  they  two  were  for  a  few  days 
consigned  to  a  room  by  themselves.  Margaret's  first  in 
quiries  related  to  Mr.  Evelyn,  who  was  reported  quite  sick. 
Susan  supplied  her  with  other  particulars  respecting  her 
cousin,  for  whom  she  expressed  the  highest  esteem,  and  it 
might  have  been  a  little  flattering  to  Margaret  to  know  how 
kindly  the  young  man  had  spoken  of  her  in  the  Judge's 
family. 

Susan,  sobered  by  the  recent  death  of  her  mother,  serious 
by  nature,  and  of  a  retiring  disposition,  was  yet  most 
excellent  company  for  Margaret.  She  possessed  amiability 
and  good  sense,  sweetness  and  strength,  cultivated  manners 
and  great  delicacy  of  sentiment,  nor  was  she  one  to  con 
demn  all  that  she  could  not  approve.  For  the  first  time  in 
her  life  Margaret  had  a  bedfellow,  if  we  except  the  dog. 

No  symptoms  of  the  natural  disease  appearing,  and  the 
virus  with  which  they  were  charged  begining  to  develop 
itself,  the  enviable  privilege  of  solitude  these  two  persons 
enjoyed  was  disturbed,  and  they  were  reduced  to  the 
common  lot,  that  of  occupying  a  chamber  where  were  four 
beds,  patients  and  nurses  to  match,  and  a  stagnant  atmos 
phere  ; — ventilation  being  prohibited  for  fear  of  taking  cold. 

It  boots  not  to  describe  that  Middle  Passage  of  the  Pock 
House,  or  follow  from  day  to  day  the  progress  of  a  dreadful 
disorder ; — the  primary  dulness  and  lassitude,  succeeded 
by  fever  and  ague,  the  hot,  blinding  eruption,  sharp, 
darting  pains,  the  swollen  face,  the  sore  throat,  tiresome 
sleep,  haunted  dreams,  convulsions,  delirium,  blindness ;  a 


47 


noisome  air,  slow  haggard  midnights,  inflamed,  nettlesome 
noontides ;  jalap  and  the  lancet ;  saffron  and  marigold 
infusions,  rum  and  brandy  applied  to  "  throw  the  eruption 
from  the  heart ; "  the  body  half  roasted  with  blisters  to 
keep  the  disease  from  "  striking  in."  Thanks  to  Lady 
Mary  Wortley  Montague  and  the  Turks  for  our  lives  in 
deed,  and  thanks  to  Dr.  Jenner  and  the  cows  for  our 
comfort !  The  aspect  of  the  town  was  suddenly  trans 
formed,  the  streets  were  deserted,  citizens  wore  lengthened 
and  distressful  countenances,  spy-like  and  suspicious  was 
all  intercourse,  It  is  3,  wonder  so  many  of  the  number  re 
turned  again  to  their  homes  ;  in  fact  only  two  died,  one  a 
boy  from  the  North  Part  of  the  town  ;  the  other  a  friend  of 
Margaret's,  and  sister  of  Isabel's,  Helen  Weeks.  Tin- 
shriven,  unblest,  she  died  ;  at  midnight,  without  prayer  or 
funeral  or  passing  bell,  was  she  buried  ;  by  the  hands  of 
the  sexton,  Deacon  RamsdilJ,  and  her  own  father  and 
mother,  were  the  shunned  remains  laid  in  the  grave,  which 
closed  over  one  as  pure  in  heart  and  guileless  in  life  as  this 
world  often  produces. 

She,  whose  especial  provinpe  was  the  health  of  the  people, 
the  Widow  Wright,  could  not  fail  to  bestir  herself  on  an 
occasion  like  the  present,  In  Rose's  sequestration  she 
aided,  Obed's  being  taken  to  the  Hospital  she  opposed,  and 
however  hostile  to  the  practice  of  the  Faculty,  she  still  felt 
it  incumbent  upon  her  to  do  something.  Accoro!ingly, 
laden  with  sundry  medicaments,  she  presented  herself  one 
morning  at  the  gate  of  the  infected  grounds.  Here  pre 
sided  Captain  Eliashib  Tuck,  with  a  staff  instead  of  a  fire 
lock — a  long  black  pole  barbed  with  iron,  and  formerly  used 
by  tythingmen  for  the  admonition  of  unruly  children  on  the 
Sabbath — which  he  carried  with  the  precision  of  a  soldier 
on  guard,  but  raised  in  a  manner  somewhat  threatening 


48  MARGARET. 

when  he  observed  the  sedulous  lady  trying  to  open  the  gate. 

"  Marcy  on  us,  Cappen  ! "  exclaimed  the  Widow,  "  ye 
wouldn't  spile  a  woman's  gear  and  forsan  break  her  head, 
for  deuin  a  dight  of  good,  would  ye,  bein  it  was  Sabber 
day?" 

"  There  are  the  General  Orders,"  replied  the  Captain 
with  sturdy  brevity. 

On  a  post  the  Leech  read  as  follows  : — 

"1.  No  person  is  allowed  to  enter  or  leave  the  grounds 
without  permission.  2.  If  a  person  cause  the  spread  of  the 
disease,  he  or  she  shall  be  fined  fifty  pounds.  3.  If  any 
person  be  inoculated  in  any  other  place  than  the  Hospital, 
he  shall  pay  forty  pounds.  4.  No  Paper  Money  to  be 
carried  into  the  building  under  penalty  of  ten  pounds." 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  snickered  out  the  woman.  "More 
afeerd  of  paper  money  than  they  are  of  the  Doctor's  knife. 
I  cal'late  Cappen,  if  they'd  a  kept  paper  money  out  of  the 
War,  there  wouldn't  have  been  quite  so  many  broke  doun." 

"  I  was  in  the  War,"  rejoined  the  Captain,  "  and  I  was 
afraid  neither  of  paper  money  nor  British  swords.  I 
consider  myself  honored  by  my  losses.  I  am  no  grum 
bler.  Where  is  your  countersign,  Ma'am?  You  can  pass 
with  a  ticket,  not  without." 

"  Ra'aly,  you  look  as  if  you  Cappen  Granded  it  over  all 
creation,  and  the  Hospital  besides.  The  doctor  has  got'um 
all  in  his  clutches,  and  he  das'nt  let  one  come  out  and  have 
fair  play.  Won't  ye  let  a  woman  see  her  boy  ?  " 

"  The  countersign,  Ma'am." 

"  They'll  kill  him  with  jollup  and  rhubarb.  They'll 
make  a  shadder  of  him,  and  wont  leave  enough  to  bury 
him  by." 

"  I  know,"  rejoined  the  Captain,  "  neither  men  nor 
women,  mothers  nor  children,  judges  nor  ministers.  Have 


MR.  EVELYN'S  DETENTION.  49 

you  never  heard,  when  I  stood  sentry  before  General  Wash 
ington's  tent,  then  only  a  raw  recruit,  and  the  Old  Hero 
himself  rode  up  in  his  carriage,  I  challenged  him.  '  Who 
goes  there  ? '  said  I,  *  General  Washington,'  said  he,  looking 
from  the  window.  '  I  don't  know  General  Washington/ 
said  I.  *  What  is  the  countersign  ? '  and  he  had  to  give  it 
before  he  could  pass  one  inch." 

"  You  had  better  a  stuck  teu  the  camp,  old  feller,  and 
gone  out  agin  the  Injins,  and  not  be  here  a  meddlin'  with 
the  sientifikals  and  a  killin'  poor  folk's  children." 

The  Captain,  who  stood  too  much  on  his  dignity  to  take 
an  affront,  replied  that  she  might  go  to  Mr.  Adolphus 
Hadlock's,  where  perhaps  her  services  would  be  timely. 
"  They  are  building  a  smoke  house  there,"  said  he,  "  and 
maybe  Aunt  Dolphy  will  let  you  pass  without  the  word. 
The  whole  family  is  in  panics." 

On  this  cue  the  Widow  sidled  up  the  road  ;  a  little  this 
side  of  Mr.  Hadlock's  house  she  met  that  gentleman  him 
self,  flurrying  along  the  street,  armed  with  a  pikestaff,  and 
having  his  ears,  nostrils,  and  even  the  garters  of  his  silk 
stockings,  stuffed  with  varieties  of  antiseptic  herbs,  looking, 
as  the  children  would  say,  like  a  crazy  man. 

"  Now  don't,"  said  the  Leech,  with  an  air  of  mock  depre 
cation.  "  You  are  teu  frightful !  " 

"  Do  you  come  from  the  infected  precincts  ?  "  cried  the 
other.  "Aristophanes,  Ethelbert!  Ho,  here,  Holdup, 
knave  !  Urania  Bathsheba,  my  little  daughter,  run  back, 
run  for  your  life  !  " 

"  I  han't  been   nigh   the  smittlish    consarn,"   said  the 
Leech.      "  Cock   on   a  hoop !     Don't   be   so   adradd.      I 
would't  tech  it  sooner  a  cow'd  eat  elder  blows.      I've  come 
teu  help  ye.     What  have  you  got  in  yer  nose  ?  " 
"  Rue  and  wormwood — don't  come  near — our  lives  de- 
VOL  IT.  5 


50  MAHGARET. 

pend  on  it.  Do,  Sophronisba,  my  dear  wife,  do  supply 
Holdup,  he  has  fallen  to  the  ground.  Never  mind  if  he  is 
our  servant,  the  safety  of  the  whole  of  our  darling  family 
is  at  stake." 

"  I've  got  the  stuff  in  my  pocket,"  interposed  the  Widow, 
"  the  gennewine  sientifikals,  what  '11  keep  off  the  pest,  and 
cure  it  when  it  comes.  I  am  as  sound  as  a  new  born  baby. 
Let  us  see  what  you  are  deuing  here." 

"  These  are  direful  days,  Mistress  Wright,"  responded 
Mr.  Hadlock.  "  Our  son  Socrates,  arid  Purintha  Cap- 
padocia,  our  daughter  dear,  are  already  under  treatment  at 
the  Hospital  ;  and  as  the  law  allows  and  our  duty  enjoins, 
we  are  aiming  to  prevent  the  spread  of  the  miasm.  We 
have  erected  a  Fumitory  for  the  more  complete  cleansing  of 
all  that  pass  this  way.  Cecilia  Rebecca,  my  dear,  do  go 
back  and  continue  your  prayers — " 

"  I  can't  find  it,  Papa." 

"  That  on  The  Visitation  of  the  Sick." 

fl  Where,  Papa,  where  is  it." 

"  Take  the  first  you  come  to,  one  is  good  as  as  another  in 
such  an  extremity ;  run  child.  Don't  approach  too  near 
the  good  lady,  Aristophanes,  lest  your  garments  should 
brush.  Keep  the  rags  burning,  my  dear  Ethelbert." 

"  Don't  be  so  despit  skeered,  Mr.  Hadlock,"  said  the 
Widow.  **  Bein'  I  was  steeped  in  their  pus  and  pizens,  I 
tell  ye,  I  can  keep  ye  clear  and  wholesome  as  ye  was 
born." 

At  the  edge  of  the  woods,  a  rude  structure  had  been 
hastily  thrown  up,  of  staddles  interlaced  with  boughs,  and 
within  were  quantities  of  water,  soap,  salt  and  vinegar. — 
Over  a  heap  of  charcoal  and  cobs  crouched  a  woman  in  a 
tattered  and  begrimed  long-short,  with  the  collar  open, 
exposing  a  dingy  neck  and  broad  shoulders,  and  blowing 


MR.  EVELYN'S  DETENTION.  51 

lustily  at  the  fire,  which  she  was  striving  to  kindle  with  her 
breath. 

"  How  d'y'e  ? — Sibyl,  for  sartain,"  said  the  Leech,  look 
ing  in.  "  Wall,  if  you  an't  here,  'pon  my  soul !  " 

"  How's  the  Widder  ?  I  am  glad  you've  come,"  re- 
ponded  Sibyl  Radney. 

"  Get  the  pile  ignited,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hadlock  ;  "  we 
can't  lose  any  time." 

"Then  you  must  have  some  fire,"  replied  Sibyl.  I 
can't  make  a  puss  out  of  a  sow's  ear,  nor  light  cobs  with  my 
windpipe,  death  or  no  death." 

"  Where  is  the  tinderbox.  I  thought  you  had  struck  a 
light.  Haste,  Holdup,  knave,  get  some  fresh  coals. — 
Havn't  you  been  for  the  brimstone,  yet,  Ethelbert,  my 
son?" 

"  You  told  me  to  keep  the  rags  burning,  Papa." 

"Never  mind  what  I  told  you;  run  to  Deacon  Pen- 
rose's,  but  don't  for  dear  Heaven's  sake  go  by  the  road, 
speed  down  across  the  woods." 

"  A  tough  case,  I  can  tell  you,  Miss  Wright,"  said  Sibyl, 
rising  to  her  feet.  u  But  we  mean  to  stop  the  plague.  We 
are  going  to  catch  every  scrag  that  conies  this  way  from 
the  Pest,  and  soak,  smoke,  salt  and  rub  them,  till  there 
isn't  a  hangnail  of  the  pock  left.  They  wont  get  off  so  easy 
as  the  Colonel  did.  The  law  gives  it  and  we'll  do  it.  Here 
comes  Miss  Dunlap,  and  Miss  Pottle  and  Comfort." 

"  We  are  all  in  a  toss,  in  our  neighborhood,"  said  Mis 
tress  Pottle.  "  I  got  Comfort  to  come  down  with  me  and 
see  how  things  were  doing.  Sylvina  is  there,  if  she  ain't 
dead." 

"We  heard  there  was  seventeen  dead  up  to  yesterday,'* 
said  Mistress  Dunlap,  "  and  four  to  be  buried  to-night ;  we 


52  MARGARET. 

havn't  heard  a  word  from  our  Myra  since  they  took  her 
down." 

"  It's  cruel  skeersom  about  there,  I  knows,"  said  the 
Widow.  "I  jest  come  up,  and  I  had  a  tight  rub  teu  git 
by.  I  cal'late  my  son  Obed  is  lying  stone  dead  there, 
now." 

"  Lord    have    mercy ! "    exclaimed    Mistress    Pottle. 
"  Comfort,  you  go  to  felling  trees  across  the  way." 

"  They  are  killin'  with  the  lancet,  and  starvin'  to  death 
with  milksops,"  said  the  Widow.  "  Here's  white  cohush, 
it  '11  bring  out  the  whelk  in  less  than  no  time  ;  brooklime 
will  break  any  fever.  There's  lavender  and  horsemint, 
and  calamus  to  burn  when  you  go  inteu  the  room.  But 
they  won't  let  me  go  nigh." 

"  Halloo  !  "  shouted  Comfort  Pottle,  who  was  busy  cut 
ting  trees.  "  There's  Sok.,  coming  up  the  road  !  " 

"  Ah,  Socrates,  my  dear  son  ! "  cried  the  father,  darting 
forwards  with  his  pikestaff.  "  How — why — what  has  hap 
pened. — My  dear  Triandaphelda  Ada,  don't  be  alarmed. — 
Don't  come  near,  my  son. — What  shall  we  do !  Are 
you  well  ? — Holdup,  knave,  where  is  your  crowbar  ? — 
Don't  cry,  Sophronisba,  my — he  is  upon  us — my  dear 
son — we  shall  all  be  killed !  " 

"  I  wasn't  going  to  stay  any  longer,"  replied  the  boy, 
who,  with  no  other  vestment  than  his  shirt,  was  now  rapid 
ly  approaching  the  party.  "  It  didn't  take.  I  stole  off 
through  the  barn  and  got  into  the  woods.  I  havn't  had 
any  thing  but  sour  whey  and  barley-water,  this  week.  If  I 
could  get  the  smell  of  mother's  buttery,  the  Doctor  shouldn't 
know  me  for  one  month." 

"  Bide  back,"  said  Comfort,  striking  forwards  with  his 
axe. 


MR.  EVELYN'S  DETENTION.  53 

"  Don't  squint  your  eye  towards  me,"  said  Holdup, 
clenching  his  crowbar. 

"  He  '11  get  well  combed  before  he  gets  through  this," 
said  Sibyl  Radney,  shaking  a  thorn-bush  in  her  brawny 
arms. 

"  Let  us  all  retreat  a  little,"  said  Mr.  Hadlock,  "  and 
form,  with  our  several  instruments,  a  line  both  of  offence 
and  defence,  along  which,  Socrates,  do  you  proceed  into 
the  Fumitory.  What  an  hour !  What  a  struggle  in  one's 
nature !  How  the  parental  feelings  in  our  bosoms,  dear 
wife,  are  tortured  !  But  the  conflict  will  soon  be  over. — 
When  you  are  in,  my  dear  son,  take  off  your  shirt,  and  lay 
it  in  the  tub  of  water ;  and  so  dispose  yourself  over  the 
burning  heap  that  the  smoke  will  reach  your  whole  body." 

The  boy,  obedient  to  the  paternal  wishes,  entered  the 
lodge,  where  he  was  presently  followed  by  his  parents  and 
the  women.  Meanwhile,  being  missed  from  the  Hospital, 
two  or  three  servants  were  despatched  for  him.  Hastening 
up  the  road,  and  dispersing  whatever  force  was  opposed  to 
them,  they  broke  in  without  ceremony,  upon  the  process 
the  runaway  at  the  moment  was  undergoing.  Four  women$ 
one  at  each  extremity,  held  the  unfortunate  youth  face 
downwards  over  fumes  of  coal,  sulphur,  lavender  and  cal- 
mus,  while  the  Widow  rubbed  his  back  with  vinegar.  Mr. 
Hadlock  stood  a  suitable  distance  from  the  tub,  stirring  the 
shirt  with  a  long  pole.  As  the  pursuers  entered,  this  gen 
tleman,  utte-ring  a  faint  scream,  bolted  through  the  sides  of 
the  hatch.  At  the  cost  of  a  sharp,  but  short  altercation 
with  the  women,  the  fugitive  was  delivered  up,  and  re 
turned  to  the  Hospital ; — whither,  as  some  of  these  good 
mothers  are  going,  let  us  also  betake  ourselves. 

These  ladies  from  the  smoke-house  encountered  other 
elderly  women,  who  with  slow  step  and  solemn,  air  came  up 
5* 


54  MARGARET. 

the  West  Street ;  among  them  were  Mistresses  Whiston, 
Joy,  Hoag,  Ravel,  and  Brent,  whose  names  have  already 
been  mentioned. 

"  Can't  any  of  us  be  admitted  ? "  inquired  Mistress 
Whiston  of  Captain  Tuck. 

"  Not  if  the  Great  Queen  Catherine  herself  should  apply 
on  her  knees  before  me,"  replied  the  trusty  warden. 

'*  Do  you  know  how  our  little  Joan  is  doing  ?  "  said  the 
lady. 

"  None  I  believe  are  considered  dangerous  since  the 
death  of  Helen  Weeks,"  rejoined  the  Captain. 

"  Poor  Miss  Weeks  ! "  ejaculated  Mistress  Whiston. 

"  Mournful  times  !  "  added  Mistress  Joy. 

"  It  is  most  as  bad  as  the  Throat  Distemper  that  was 
round  when  I  was  a  gal,"  said  one  of  the  ladies ;  "  there 
were  more  dead  than  alive." 

"  So  it  was  in  the  Rising  of  the  Lights,"  said  another. 

"  What  is  that  to  the  Camp  Fever  we  had  in  the  War  ! " 
echoed  the  Captain.  "  There  were  two  shousand  sick  at 
one  time,  and  never  a  quarter  recovered ;  and  we  had  to 
march,  sick  or  well,  alive  or  dead." 

"That  tells  how  our  Luke  came  to  his  end,"  said  Mistress 
Dunlap. 

"  And  how  glorious  it  was  to  die  for  one's  country ! " 
added  the  Captain. 

"That  was  nothing  to  the  Great  Earthquake  when  I 
was  a  gal,  and  lived  at  the  Bay,''  said  Mistress  Joy.  "  The 
spindle  and  vane  on  Funnel  Hall  was  blown  down, 
chimbleys  were  cracked,  brick  and  tile  chocked  up  the 
streets.  It  sounded  as  if  God  Almighty's  chariot  was 
trundling  over  the  pavements  in  Old  Marlboro'." 

"  That  was  the  same  year  one  of  the  niggers  in  Kidder- 


MR.  EVELYN'S  DETENTION.  55 

minster  cut  his  master's  throat,  as  I  have  heard  Ma'am 
tell,"  said  Sibyl  Radney. 

"  No,  it  was  four  year  arter,"  explained  an  elderly  lady  ; 
"  it  was  the  same  year  our  Prudence  was  born,  and  that 
was  just  four  year  arter  the  Earthquake.  I  can  remember 
an  old  Indian  slave  we  had  at  our  house,  one  of  the  Nip- 
mucks,  and  what  a  time  we  had  of  it.  Daddy  kept  him 
chained  nights,  but  he  broke  away,  and  killed  one  of  the 
men  that  was  sent  arter  him ;  and  he  was  hung  the  next 
week.  I  remember  Dad's  saying,  '  There  goes  twenty 
pounds.'  But  he  wouldn't  work,  and  wan't  worth  his 
hide." 

"  The  Indians  and  Negroes  never  did  us  much  good," 
said  Mistress  Whiston  ;  "  and  I  am  glad  there  are  going  to 
be  no  more  slaves." 

"  I  cal'late  as  much,"  said  the  Widow,  "  if  you  had  seen 
the  niggers  burnt  alive  down  teu  York,  nigh  fifty  of  um,  for 
bringing  in  the  Papists.  My  Granther  was  on  the  spot 
and  saw  it  all,  and  said  it  did  his  heart  good  teu  see  the  fat 
fry  out  of  the  sa'cy  dogs." 

"  I  remember,"  said  the  Widow  Brent,  who  was  a  little 
deaf,  "  milking  a  cow  a  whole  winter  for  a  half  a  yard  of 
ribbin." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Mistresss  Ravel,  "  the  Great  Hog, 
up  in  Dunwich,  that  hefted  nigh  twenty  score." 

"Morrow  to  ye,  good  wives.  Are  you  not  running 
some  risk  ?  "  said  a  voice  behind  them,  that  of  Deacon  Had- 
lock,  whose  approach  the  ladies,  diverted  by  memories  of 
other  days  and  transported  to  scenes  of  legendary  horror, 
had  not  perceived. 

"  I  don't  know  but  we  are  a  matter  exposed,"  said 
Mistress  Whiston. 


56  MARGARET. 

"  I  had  as  lief  go  right  inteu  it  arm's  length,"  said  the 
Leech. 

"  The  danger  is  that  you  might  carry  it  away  in  your 
clothes,"  answered  the  Deacon.  "  I  have  no  business  here, 
but  I  saw  ye  all,  and  I  thought  I  would  just  ride  up  and 
give  ye  a  friendly  warning." 

While  these  ladies  disperse  it  is  safe  for  the  rest  of  us  to 
remain ;  and  by  methods  which  the  vigilance  of  Captain 
Tuck  cannot  counteract  we  will  enter  the  forbidden  spot. 

Favored  by  a  constitution  which  often  in  life  stood  her 
in  hand,  Margaret  has  been  able  to  carry  forward  her 
disease  more  rapidly  than  many  others,  and  is  so  far  re 
covered  as  to  have  passed  from  the  sick  chamber  through 
the  "  Cleansing  Apartment,"  and  is  now  almost  sole  occu 
pant  of  the  "  Clean  Room."  Glad  enough  is  she  to  exchange 
mint-tea  and  jalap  for  water-gruel  and  milk-porridge. 

She  goes  out  into  the  open  air.  The  aspect  of  things  has 
changed  during  her  confinement.  The  verdure  of  nature 
shows  in  gold  and  crimson  colors.  The  frosts  have  fallen 
and  the  flowers  are  drooping,  Summer  wilts  into  Autumn. 
The  fresh  air  of  the  heavens  and  the  free  tread  of  the  earth 
were  an  exhilaration.  But  when  she  saw  a  morning  glory 
with  its  black,  blistered  leaves,  and  heard  the  feeble  notes 
of  the  birds  wailing  a  farewell  to  our  northern  latitudes,  and 
the  mournful  underflowing  murmurs  of  the  crickets  that  so 
betoken  a  fading  season  ;  and  especially  when  she  thought 
of  Helen  Weeks,  whose  death  occurred  in  the  same 
chamber  with  herself,  but  at  a  time  when  she  could  be 
hardly  conscious  of  what  transpired,  she  was  seized  with  a 
deep  melancholy,  so  that  in  her  present  debilitated  state 
she  well  nigh  fainted,  and  staggering  with  weakness  and  a 
burdensome  sense  of  evil  she  went  back  to  the  house. 


MARGARET    DEJECTED.  57 

Sorrow  for  the  death  of  a  friend  she  never  before  ex 
perienced,  nor  was  she  in  a  condition  most  apt  for  meeting 
it.  She  sank  in  a  chair  by  the  window,  turned  away  her 
face,  and  in  thought  wandered  confusedly,  painfully,  darkly, 
over  the  trees,  the  landscape,  the  sky,  God  and  the 
Universe. 

Susan  Morgridge  and  Isabel  Weeks  were  yet  in  the  sick 
room,  the  latter  at  a  point  of  dangerous  reduction,  so  much 
so  that  her  convalescence  was  for  some  months  delayed. 
Of  Mr.  Evelyn  she  heard  he  had  passed  the  hands  of  the 
cleansers,  but  she  saw  nothing  of  him.  To  the  clean  ones, 
with  whom  she  was  now  associated,  she  might  have  ad 
dressed  herself,  but  they  were  strangers  to  her,  and  the 
freedom  and  spirits  most  of  them  seemed  to  enjoy  rendered 
the  weight  in  her  feelings  more  intolerable,  and  she  was 
constrained  to  keep  by  herself,  and  spent  a  good  part  of 
two  days  in  solitary  reverie  by  the  window. 

On  the  third  day  she  had  the  good  fortune  to  see  Mr. 
Evelyn  walking  in  the  garden,  cloaked  and  muffled,  and 
tears  in  fresh  large  drops  rose  to  her  eyes.  Presently  he 
sent  by  one  of  the  attendants  a  summons  to  herself  which 
she  could  not  but  obey.  Clearing  her  eyes,  throwing  on 
shawl  and  bonnet,  she  went  out.  Her  face,  ordinarily 
animated  with  the  colors  of  health  and  hope,  was  stricken 
and  sorrowful,  and  bore  evid(  nt  traces  of  sickness  and  dis 
appointment  ;  rior  was  the  appearance  of  Mr.  Evelyn 
altogether  dissimilar.  He  took  her  hand  cordially,  and 
spoke  to  her  soothingly.  "  Helen,"  said  he,  "  has  indeed 
gone  from  us,  as  all  must  go  at  last.  But  in  Christ  we 
never  die.  By  the  Atonement  are  we  immortal.  Where 
he  is,  there  shall  we  be.  Possessed  of  him,  death  has  no 
terror  for  us  or  power  over  us.'  The  trees  fade  to  renew 
themselves." 


58  MARGARET. 

<;I  have  felt,"  said  she,  "that  I  should  never  wish  to  see 
another  summer,  and  all  beautiful  human  faces  seemed 
hidden  from  me  forever.  But  I  hope  these  feelings  will 
not  last." 

"  Beauty  and  pureness,"  said  he,  "  are  everlasting ;  they 
are  of  God,  and  can  never  die,  They  may  for  a  moment 
be  obscured,  but  they  shall  reappear  in  brighter  lustre. 
Angels  have  charge  over  them  that  they  dash  not  their  foot 
against  a  stone.  Let  us  turn  to  the  pleasant  face  of  God  in 
what  is  about  us." 

"  I  wish  we  were  at  the  Pond  ;  hoV  beautiful  it  is  there 
in  the  Fall !  You  see  the  woods  that  go  up  there  meta 
morphosed  into  great  marigolds  filled  in  here  and  there 
with  a  cardinal  flower." 

"  They  remind  one  of  a  flame  of  fire,  still-burning,  but 
not  consumed,  like  the  bush  of  which  the  Bible  speaks. 
They  bring  to  my  recollection  an  army  of  staff-officers  with 
crimson  coats  on  roan  steeds.  Would  that  all  blood  were 
as  innocent  as  that  which  yonder  straggling  trooper  of  a 
red-maple  is  dyed  with!  They  call  up  the  solemn  convo 
cations  of  our  old-fashioned  Judges  in  their  scarlet  robes." 

"  You  confound  me  by  such  things.  I  should  not  like  to 
look  upon  trees  from  that  *  stand  point ;'  it  savors  only  of 
trainings,  rum-drinking  and  jails.  I  would  rather  see  in 
them  the  sunsetting  and  my  dream-clouds." 

"  I  love  the  beautiful  wherever  I  see  it,  and  perhaps 
sometimes  see  it  where  I  should  not.  But  we  are  not  in 
strength  for  disquisitions  of  this  sort.  Let  us  enjoy  with 
out  reason.  How  long  do  they  keep  you  here,  Miss 
Hart  ?  " 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  I  wish  I  could  go  home  to 
day,  but  the  Committee  are  very  exact,  and  they  may  hold 
on  to  me  a  month." 


AUTUMN.  59 

"  Dr.  Spoor  thinks  he  can  give  me  a  clearance  day 
after  to-morrow,  and  I  will  intercede  with  him  to  let  you 
off.  I  am  anxious  to  return  home,  having  already  been 
delayed  beyond  my  time,  as  I  must  sail  so  soon." 

"  I  did  not  know  as  you  had  any  home.  If  I  had  thought 
any  thing  about  it,  I  should  have  imagined  you  dropped 
right  out  of  the  sky." 

"  I  have  a  home  indeed,  with  a  holy  mother.0 

"  I  will  not  laugh,  because  I  cannot  laugh. — You  are  so 
soon  away  !  I  am  tired,  had  we  not  better  return  to  our 
rooms  ?  " 

The  extensive  grounds  of  Col.  Welch  were  the  allotted 
limits  of  the  convalescing  patients.  The  next  day  Mar 
garet  and  Mr.  Evelyn  went  out  together ;  they  met  others 
like  themselves  revelling  in  their  tethered  liberties  and 
enjoying  the  sumptuousness  of  the  hour  and  the  place. 
Conventional  distinctions  and  proprieties  disappeared  in 
this  general  invalid  exuberance,  and  no  surmises  were 
raised  or  words  uttered  while  the  feeble  Indian  strolled 
arm  in  arm  with  the  feeble  relative  of  the  Judge.  An  early 
frost  had  smitten  the  vegetation,  but  the  sun  was  warm  and 
the  air  bland.  They  felt  the  glow  of  returning  health  and 
invigorated  frames,  and  were  grateful  for  deliverances  often 
delayed  and  sometimes  never  afforded.  Red  squirrels 
chased  one  another  over  crisp  leaves  on  the  ground  and 
along  the  limpid  branches  of  the  trees,  yelping  and  chat 
tering  like  kingfishers.  Fox-colored  sparrows,  nuthatches, 
and  the  great  golden-winged  woodpecker  vied  in  their 
notes,  and  seemed  resolved  on  merriment  while  the  season 
lasted.  They  reached  the  knoll  on  which  the  -old  Summer 
house  stood  ;  by  broken  steps  they  ascended,  and  on  a 
broken  seat  they  sat  down. 


CO  MARGARET. 

"  Have  you  strength  enough  to"  sing  to  me  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Evelyn. 

"  I  will  sing  you  '  Mary  in  Heaven,'  "  said  Margaret. 

The  next  morning  two  horses  were  brought  to  the  gate, 
one  assigned  to  Margaret,  while  Mr.  Evelyn  mounted  the 
other. 

"  Are  you  going  up  with  me  ?  "  said  Margaret. 

"  I  brought  you  down,"  replied  Mr.  Evelyn,  u  and  it  is 
but  fair  I  should  see  you  back." 

They  went  through  the  South  Street,  entered  the  Brandon 
road,  and  ascended  the  long  steep  hill  Margaret  had  formerly 
climbed  on  her  way  to  Mr.  Wharfield's.  The  Indian 
Summer  had  just  begun,  a  soft  haze  pervaded  the  atmos 
phere  and  settled  like  a  thin  gi  ay  cloud  on  the  horizon  ; 
there  was  a  delicious,  sweet,  sleep-like  feeling  filling  the 
universe,  both  inspiring  and  tranquillizing.  On  one  side 
the  sky  seemed  to  lean  on  red  trees  and  green  grass  ;  Mill 
Brook  dashed  and  tinkled  below  as  through  a  bed  of  roses. 
Margaret's  horse  proved  mettlesome,  and  she  reached  the 
summit-level  before  Mr.  Evelyn. 

"  I  should  have  a  magnificent  scene,"  said  she,  turning 
and  waiting  for  him,  "  even  if  I  had  to  see  it  all  alone. 
You  yourself  are  a  live  man  and  horse  in  a  field  of  embroid 
ery  such  as  Mrs.  Beach  can't  equal,  and  she  is  said  to  be 
the  most  skilful  needle-worker  in  town." 

"  Look  at  your  own  Mons  Christi,"  said  he.  "  All  the 
looms  of  the  Gobelins  could  not  garnish  it  so  !  There  is  a 
solitary  maple  like  a  flamingo  on  its  nest  of  green  cedars  and 
laurels." 

"  How  hot  those  yellow  witch-hazels  look  under  the  tall 
trees,  if  I  were  cold  I  would  go  in  there  ;  and  yonder  the 
dark  forest  is  burning  with  glowworms  and  tapers,  if  I 
were  gloomy  I  would  go  in  there.  I  wish,  Mr.  Evelyn, 


AUTUMN.  61 

you  ivere  going  to  stay  a  little  longer  in  Livingston.  See 
that  hemlock  so  covered  with  gray  moss,  and  there  is  a 
bunch  of  fire-red  trees  peeping  out  from  green  hemlocks 
behind  it.  It  stands  out  alone,  you  see  ;  its  kindred  have 
deserted  it,  and  the  mosses  are  taking  pity  on  its  old  age. 
Will  you  find  any  thing  as  beautiful  on  the  sea-coast,  or 
beyond  the  sea ;  the  Master  says  there  is  nothing  like  it  in 
Europe." 

"  I  do  not  go  to  the  Old  World  for  its  scenery,  I  only 
wish  to  see  Man  there.  There  is  nothing  like  New 
England,  and  nothing  in  New  England  like  its  interior 
districts.  The  sea-coast  is  more  level  and  uniform ;  here 
you  have  the  advantage  of  mountain,  bluff,  interval,  to  set 
off  the  view.  This  autumnal  tapestry  is  hung  upon 
windows  and  arches  and  flung  over  battlements.  With  us 
it  is  only  spread  on  the  floor.  But  why  do  you  notice  that 
old  tree  ?  You  are  too  young  to  be  attracted  by  age  and 
decay." 

"  I  don't  know — I  seem  sometimes  to  have  lived  half  a 
century,  and  again  as  if  I  was  just  born.  How  many  years 
I  have  lived  the  last  month  !  When  I  was  very  young  I 
used  to  think  this  frost-change  was  owing  to  yellow  bugs, 
bumble-bees  and  butterflies  lighting  on  the  trees ;  and  then 
it  was  orioles  and  goldfinches  ;  and  afterwards  it  seemed  to 
me  twilight  clouds  snowing  upon  the  earth — and  now — 
now. — There  is  a  dash  for  you,  Mr.  Evelyn,  which  the 
Master  says  implies  a  suspension  of  the  sense.  Sister 
Ruth  is  coming  to  meet  us,  let  us  start  our  fillies." 

"How  is  sister  Margaret?"  said  Mrs.  Wharfield,  ad 
vancing  into  the  street. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Charles  Evelyn,"  said  Margaret. 

"  Glad  to  see  thee,  friend  Charles.  Will  ye  not  tarry 
a  while  ?  How  is  the  malady  ?  " 

VOL.  II.  G 


02  MARGARET. 

"We  must  hasten  home,"  replied  Margaret.  They 
are  getting  better  at  the  Hospital.  Helen  Weeks  is 
dead." 

"  So  we  learned.  She  has  found  the  true  light  now 
whereto  the  world  is  dark.  Farewell,  if  you  cannot  rest. 
Anthony  would  rejoice  to  see  thee.  He  has  been  much 
moved  towards  thee,  Margaret.'1 

They  presently  met  a  drove  of  cows  driven  by  an  old 
man  and  a  boy. 

"  That  is  Kester  Shield,  Uncle  Ket,  the  cowherd,"  said 
Margaret.  "  See  he  is  afraid  of  us,  he  is  running  into  the 
woods  to  escape  contagion — his  cows  also  are  much  moved 
by  our  horses,  as  the  Quaker  said." 

"  Phin !  Boy,"  shouted  the  old  man  hiding  himself 
among  the  brush.  "  Keep  clear  of  the  wind  of  the  horses — 
there — there,  head  off  the  Parson." 

"  Uncle  Ket,  Uncle  Ket,  don't  be  scared,"  cried  Margaret. 
"  We  havn't  any  of  the  disease.  We  have  been  smoked 
clean." 

The  old  man  continued  to  retreat,  hallooing  to  his  boy. 
"  Keep  out  of  the  wind.  We  shall  lose  Miss  Luce — the 
Parson  '11  have  them  all  crazed." 

"  We  must  stop  this  movement,"  said  Mr.  Evelyn.  "  I 
will  help  the  boy,  while  you  ride  along  by  the  edge  of  the 
woods  and  see  if  you  can  compose  the  old  man." 

"  The  Parson,"  said  the  cowherd,  whom  Margaret 
reached  and  quieted,  "is  the  worst  pair  of  horns  I  ever 
druv,  and  I  have  had  the  business  now  rising  of  sixty  year, 
and  take  it  by  and  large  fifty  head  a  season,  and  she  is  the 
beatomest." 

"  Have  you,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Evelyn,  "  followed  the 
business  so  long  ?  " 

"  I  was  chose  arter  Old  Increase  Tapley  died.     I  was 


AUTUMN.  63 

prentieed  to  Old  Increase,  but  he  got  to  be  so  old  I  had  it 
pretty  much  all  to  myself." 

"  How  old  was  he  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Evelyn. 

"  He  was  hard  on  to  seventy -five  when  he  died,  though 
he  didn't  do  much  a  spell  before." 

"  What  is  your  age,  Sir." 

"  I  was  seventy-two,  eighteenth  day  March  last ;  though 
I  like  to  have  lost  one  year  by  them  heathenish  Papists. 
Zuds  !  you'll  begin  to  think  I  am  getting  old  too ;  I  never 
should  have  thought  of  it,  I  havn't  seen  an  old  man  this 
thirty  year,  they  used  to  be  thick  as  spatter  when  1  was  a 
boy ;  only  there  is  Old  Miss  Radney,  Sibyl's  mother,  she's 
rising  of  ninety.  But,  as  I  was  saying,  I  was  chose  the 
very  next  Town  Meeting  arter  Increase  died,  I  took  oath 
under  the  Old  King — Phin,  boy,  the  Parson's  hunching 
Miss  Luce — and  I  have  been  run  ever  since ;  fair  or  foul, 
hot  and  cold,  mud  and  dust,  I  stick  it  through." 

"The  cows  must  give  you  trouble  in  your  advancing 
years,"  said  Mr.  Evelyn. 

"0,  it  an't  a  circumstance  to  what  it  used  to  be,  when 
the  Injiris  skulked  round  and  stole  the  kine,  and  run  off 
with  the  horses — in  them  days  we  took  all  sorts — the  troops 
in  the  War  pressed  some  of  the  best  of  them,  and  they  tried 
to  make  Uncle  Ket  make  it  good  ;  and  in  Burgwine's  time 
when  the  Hissians  and  Highlanders  came  through,  with 
their  check  backs,  long  pipes  and  busky  caps,  they  distarbed 
them  so  it  took  a  whole  day  to  bring  them  to ;  and  latterly 
when  the  wagons  began  to  come,  the  whole  pack  would  up 
and  off,  capering  and  snorting,  into  the  wcods.  I'm  glad 
you  keep  to  the  saddle,  and  don't  interfere  with  people's 
business.  They  are  fencing  in  the  commons  now,  and 
putting  their  cows  to  pastur.  I  had  a  calculated  to  leave  a 
handsome  run  of  business  to  my  grandson,  Phin.  My 


64  MARGARET. 

wife  is  dead,  and  children,  and  he  and  the  cows  is  all  there 
is  left.  The  cows  you  see  are  dwindled  down  to  less  than 
a  quarter.  Great  changes — Uncle  Ket's  trade  is  most 
done.  You  are  a  young  man,  and  I  could  larn  you  a  good 
many  things.  Molly  I've  known  ever  since  she  was  dropt ; 
she  has  brought  in  the  strays,  and  many  is  the  poundage 
she  has  saved  Uncle  Ket.  She  is  brisk-eyed,  full-breasted 
and  straight-limbed,  as  a  Devon  heifer ;  she  wants  coaxing 
and  patting  a  little — she  don't  run  with  the  old  cows  enough 
to  larn  their  ways. — Glad  you  got  through  with  the  pock 
so  well — it  takes  a  second  time,  some  say — it's  worse  than 
horn-ail,  hoven  or  core — There,  Molly,  let  Bughorn  go  by, 
we  will  manage  them." 

"You  see,"  said  Margaret  as  they  rode  on,  "there  are 
things  besides  trees  to  remind  us  of  age  and  regrets.  But 
I  had  rather  talk  of  the  trees.  They  become  individually 
developed  by  the  frosts ;  you  can  distinguish  them  better 
now  than  in  summer." 

"  I  have  known  the  beauties  of  the  forest  only  in  the 
aggregate,"  said  Mr.  Evelyn.  "  It  is  a  fair  whole  of  form, 
color  and  effect  that  interests  me.  What  is  that  orange- 
crowned  tree  glowing  so  in  the  sun,  over  among  the 
pines  ?  " 

"  A  rock-maple." 

"  These  straw-colored  trees  and  that  dark  purple  clump  ?  " 

"  These  are  oaks,  and  that  is  a  grove  of  wild  cherries. 
I  know  them  in  the  Spring,  I  seem  to  half  lose  them  in  the 
Summer;  in  the  Fall  they  announce  themselves  again. 
The  red-maple  is  deep  crimson,  that  tawny-colored  grove 
is  beeches,  there  is  the  purple  woodbine  trailing  over  the 
rocks.  What  a  pretty  picture  is  that  flock  of  sheep  and 
lambs  feeding  among  the  blood-red  blueberries !  " 

"  Here  is  a  solitary  maple,  so  soft^  transparent,  silken,  as 


AUTUMN.  65 

if  the  Spirit  of  Color  dwelt  in  its  leaves.  These  are  scenes 
which  Rosa  or  Poussin  could  never  have  commanded." 

"  There  is  some  advantage  in  knowing  the  detail." 

"  Yes,  one  could  not  be  a  Painter  or  Poet  without  it." 

"  More  than  that,  ourselves  are  there  in  those  trees. 
Distress,  like  the  frosts,  brings  out  all  our  feelings,  light 
and  dark,  cheerful  and  sombre.  The  trees  have  a  sympathy 
with  me.  I  am  but  a  mottled  piece  of  wild  wood.  These 
last  weeks  have  unfolded  all  my  colors.  You  say  you 
sketch  sometimes  ;  you  cannot  carry  me  away  in  your 
portfolio,  I  shall  only  allow  you  a  leaf.  I  must  grow  green 
again.  See  those  dark  trees  above,  the  yellow  hobble-bush 
and  brakes  below,  and  on  the  ground  the  green  arbutus, 
mosses  and  wintergreen.  The  lowest  down  the  greenest. 
Let  me  lie  low,  where  no  frost  can  touch  me.  Shall  you 
ever  think  of  these  things  when  you  are  away,  Mr. 
Evelyn?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  will  think  of  you  the  wintergreen,  unscathed 
by  frost,  unaffected  by  changing  seasons." 

"  Geodic  Christian  Androidal  Wintergreen  Indian  Molly 
Pluck,  mater  bovum  divumque !  what  a  string  of  names 
you  put  on  me !  What  shall  I  call  you  ?  " 

"  Let  us  look  a  little  farther  on,  and  perhaps  we  shall  find 
something.  Here  we  open  into  a  tropical  grove  of  lemons 
and  oranges,  the  golden  fruit  glows  on  the  trees  and 
crackles  under  the  hoofs  of  our  horses  ;  beyond  1  see  a 
warm  sunny  vale  of  tulips  and  carnations;  truly  this 
cannot  be  surpassed." 

"  What  say  you  to  the  pool  of  water  under  that  arbor  of 
trees  ?  I  can  count  you  crimson  gooseberry,  flaming  maples, 
claret  sumach,  yellow  birch  and  what  not." 

"  Those  are  garnets,  topazes  and  sapphires  set  in  a  dark 
rock  of  polished  steel.  Indeed,  look  about  you,  Miss  Hart ; 
6* 


MARGARET. 

would  it  not  seem  as  if  the  trees  extracted  all  the  colors  of 
the  earth,  cobalt,  umber,  lapis-lazuli,  iodine,  litharge,  chrome, 
and  compounding  them  in  the  sap,  drenched  and  dyed  every 
leaf ;  or  as  if  great  Nature  herself,  making  a  canvas  of  the 
forests,  had  painted  them  as  you  say  with  rainbows  and 
twilight  ?  " 

"  Do  you,  Sir,  remember  what  I  say  ?  " 
"  Most  certainly  I  do." 

"  So  does  Job,  and  Isabel,  and  I  shall  have  one  in 
Europe,  and  two  in  Livingston  to  remember  me.  I  never 
before  felt  there  was  a  pleasure  in  being  remembered,  at 
least  such  a  thing  never  was  a  thought  to  me.  And  all 
New  England,  that  you  admire  so  much,  you  will  bear  in 
your  heart  into  Old  England ;  I  wonder  what  they  will 
think  of  you  ! — Here  we  come  to  the  Delectable  Way." 

They  rode  in  silence  up  the  rough  ascent.      "  Will  you 
wear  this,  Miss  Hart?"  said  Mr.   Evelyn,  breaking  the 
monotomy,  and  offering  a  ring  with  a  small  diamond  stud. 
"If  my  Bona  Dea  will  permit." 
«  Who  is  your  Bona  Dea?  " 

"  I  think  it  must  be  Christ,  it  used  to  be  something  else. 
I  will  give  you  some  of  these  leaves  you  think  so  pretty, 
and  there  are  berries  in  the  woods,  the  scarlet  devil's  ear 
and  blue  dracira." 

"  You  must  not  think  of  it,  you  are  too  weak  to  dismount. 

A  beautiful  wish  I  shall^cherish  as  much  as  beautiful  fruit." 

"  Here  in  my  stirrup,"  said  Margaret,  "  I  can  reach  the 

leaves.     They  will  keep  their  color  a  long  time ;  there  you 

have  pink,  beet,  carrot  and  what  not.     Don't  lose  them." 

Reaching  the  house,  Bull  and  Dick  came  out  to  meet 
Margaret,  her  father  handed  her  from  the  saddle,  Chilion 
undid  the  budget  that  was  strapped  to  the  crupper,  and  her 
mother  offered  Mr.  Evelyn  a  cup  of  water.  Cassar,  the 


MR.    EVELYN   AND  CAESAR.  67 

negro   servant   of  Judge  Morgridge,  to  whom  the  house 
belonged,  had  come  up  across  to  take  the  spare  beast. 

"  God  love  you,  Margaret,"  said  Mr.  Evelyn. 

"  Christ  love  you,  Mr.  Evelyn,"  said  Margaret. 

Mr.  Evelyn,  with  Csesar,  rode  off  through  the  trees. 

"Dat  be  one  nice  gal,"  said  the  Negro  speaking  to 
relieve  the  quiet  of  the  way,  «'  ef  she  no  hab  brack,  but  only 
Ingin  blood.  She  steel-trap." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Caesar  ?  " 

"  She  catch  Massa  heart." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?  Was  your  heart  ever 
caught  ?  " 

"Yes,  once,  Phillis  Welch  grabbed  him  in  her  two 
hands." 

"  Has  she  got  it  now  ?  " 

"  She  took  him  off  wid  de  Curnel  ober  de  sea  in  de  Wai- 
time." 

"  Don't  you  love  her  still  ?  " 

"  Caesar  hab  two  lubs,  Massa  Pason  say,  when  him  jine 
de  Church,  de  wicked  nater  lub,  and  de  good  God  lub,  and 
him  kill  de  wicked  nater  lub.  Caesar  fraid  Massa  no  tink 
ob  de  Pond  wench  when  him  gone." 

"  Don't  you  ever  think  of  Phillis  ?  " 

"  No  ;  him  hab  no  tink  ob  Phillis  now.  De  wicked  lub 
tink  get  in  Caesar's  heart  sometimes,  and  de  old  lub  tears  in 
his  eyes.  Massa  see  Phillis  ober  de  seas,  gib  Caesar's  lub 
to  Phillis,  but  only  for  the  lub  ob  God's  sake.  Tell  Phillis, 
Caesar  old,  soon  sink  in  the  de  grabe,  meet  her  in  glory  ; 
him  hab  no  wife,  no  children  for  Phillis's  sake." 

"  Can't  I  think  of  that  young  lady  the  same  as  you  do  of 
Phillis?" 

"  Fear  Massa  not  convarted,  hab  wicked  tink,  den  no  tink, 
lub  oder  faces." 


68  MARGARET. 

Margaret,  debilitated  by  illness  and  tired  by  the  long 
ride,  went  immediately  to  her  mother's  bed.  In  a  short 
time  Rose  appeared  and  ministered  unto  her.  The  broth 
of  a  fresh  chicken  was  prepared;  peaches  Chilion  had 
saved  from  her  own  tree  she  ate.  The  next  morning  she 
went  into  the  woods  and  gathered  some  of  the  brilliant 
leaves,  corresponding  to  those  she  had  given  Mr.  Evelyn, 
and  put  them  carefully  away.  She  ascended  Mons  Christi, 
looked  in  the  direction  she  supposed  Mr.  Evelyn  had  gone, 
and  pressed  the  ring  to  her  lips  and  her  handkerchief  to 
her  eyes. 

"  Why  do  you  weep,  Margaret  ?  "  was  an  unanticipated 
voice. 
'<  Rose ! " 

"  I  followed  you  up,"  said  Rose.     "  You  were  abstracted." 
'*  Why  do  I  weep,  Rose  ?     I  know  not  why." 
"  If  you  do  so,  it  shall  be  in  my  arms.     I  am  stronger 
than  you  to-day,  Margaret.     Lay  your  head  here  and  go  to 
sleep." 

"  Nay,  Rose,  I  am  very  dry,  I  want  some  water ;  let  us 
go  down  to  the  cistern.     I  shall  feel  better  if  I  can  drink." 
"  Not  all  the  waters  of  the  Pond  can  quench  your  thirst, 
Margaret,  methinks."   . 

"  Let  us  go,  and  we  will  try  the  plums  Judge  Morgridge 

sent  up  this  morning,  nice  damsons.     We  will  also  make 

our  oblations  to  Egeria,  who  has  been  a  long  time  deserted." 

"  Did  Judge  Morgridge,  or  Mr.  Evelyn,  send  you  these 

plums?"  asked  Rose  when  they  had  gained  their  retreat. 

"  Csesar    said    it   was   the  Judge,"    replied   Margaret, 

coloring. 

"  I  thank  you  !  I  thank  you !  I  love  you,  Margaret,"  said 
Rose,  and  by  a  very  unexpected  movement  buried  her  face 
with  apparent  strong  feeling  in  Margaret's  lap. 


ROSE    REAPPEARS.  69 

"  Well  done,  Rose,"  said  Margaret,  "  you  are  lux  inac- 
cessa,  unapproachable,  inexplicable.  What  is  the  meaning 
of  this  ?  You  are  crushing  my  bonnet,  you  are  staining 
yourself  with  the  plums. — I  have  exhausted  myself  in  vain 
upon  you,  and  have  failed  to  discover  you  at  all,  and  now 
you  flood  me  with  yourself !  " 

"  Margaret !  "  said  Rose,  regaining  her  position,  "  you 
are  angry  with  me !  I  have  offended  you  !  " 

"  Hold,  Rose  !  "  said  Margaret,  laying  her  hand  upon  her 
arm.  "No  one  knows  what  I  have  felt  and  suffered  for 
you.  I  am  not  angry  with  you.  In  my  heart  I  love  you, 
and  never  more  than  now.  Why  did  you  thank  me  ?  " 

u  For  that  blush  when  I  asked  you  about  the  plums," 
said  Rose. 

"  In  good  sooth,"  replied  Margaret,  "  your  face  is  red  as 
a  beet  with  the  plums,  now;  and  I  doubt  if  you  would 
thank  me  for  thanking  you  for  it.  Here  is  my  handker 
chief,  wipe  it  off  and  we  shall  be  even." 

"  Don't  laugh  at  me,  Margaret,  if  you  do  I  can  never 
speak  to  you  again.  I  have  stains  in  my  soul,  Margaret, 
that  cannot  be  so  easily  effaced." 

"  Tell  me,  Rose,"  said  Margaret,  "  what  is  this  you 
speak  of?" 

"  When  I  saw  the  color  in  your  face,"  replied  Rose,  "  it 
seemed  to  me  as  if  you  possessed  feelings  which  I  never 
supposed  you  to  have,  or  you  appeared  in  a  light  different 
from  ever  before." 

"  Surely,"  said  Margaret,  "  you  need  not  have  waited  for 
that  to  know  I  have  in  my  keeping  a  pretty  considerable 
variety  of  emotions,  as  many  as  there  are  speckled  hens  in 
our  roost." 

"  I  know,"  rejoined  Rose%  "  that  you  have  been  most 
kind  to  me,  a  perfect  angel,  and  the  only  one  I  ever  expect  to 


70  MARGARET. 

see,  but  you  were  always  happy  you  said,  and  you  seemed 
so  healthy  and  strong  ;  and  a  certain  description  of  feeling 
I  concluded  you  were  never  troubled  with.  And  even 
while  Mr.  Evelyn  was  here  you  seemed  on  the  whole  quiet 
and  undisturbed.  But  I  did  see  you  weep  on  the  hill,  and 
I  did  see  a  tremulous  flash  in  your  face  when  I  spoke  about 
the  plums — " 

"  And  you  do  suppose  I  have  some  feelings  of  human 
nature?" 

"  Yes,  of  a  kind  that  would  fit  me  ;  I  had  despaired  to 
find  any,  wholly  such,  in  the  world.  You  must  needs  have 
suffered  some  in  your  innermost  soul  in  order  to  feel  with 
me  ; — what  I  supposed  had  never  happened  to  you." 

"  It  is  sympathy  you  want,"  said  Margaret. 

u  Yes,  sympathy,"  replied  Rose,  "  that  is  it." 

"  That  word,"  said  Margaret,  "  Mr.  Evelyn  taught  me. 
But  I  hardly  need  wait  for  an  instructor  to  tell  me  its 
meaning." 

"  I  knew  you  pitied  me,"  said  Rose,  "  but  I  feared  you 
did  not  sympathize  with  me." 

'*  Well,  now,"  said  Margaret,  '*  perhaps  after  all  I  do 
not.  How  do  I  know  what  to  sympathize  with  ?  " 

"  If  you  will  promise  to  sympathize  without  knowing  pre 
cisely  what  with,  I  will  tell  you.  Margaret ! "  continued 
Rose  solemnly,  "  do  not  I  exhibit  symptoms  of  a  decline  ? 
Can  I  live  long  ?  I  do  not  wish  to.  But  before  I  die  you 
shall  know  all  I  have  to  say." 

"  I  will  see  that  you  do  not  die,  Rose,  if  you  will  only 
tell  what  you  are." 

"A  broken-hearted  girl,  Margaret,  that  is  the  whole. 
Can  you  sympathize  with  that?" 

"  I  knew,  dear  Rose,  something  pierced  and  wounded  you 
inwardly,  and  by  intimations  of  which  I  can  give  no  account 


ROSE    REAPPEARS.  71 

I  have  felt  it  all.  It  has  been  repeated  in  my  own  breast, 
though  I  never  spoke  of  it.  Come  where  you  need  to  be, 
into  my  arms,  Rose,  and  speak  or  be  silent,  as  you  like. 
That  word  broken-hearted  is  a  strange  word  ;  I  never 
heard  it  methinks  before.  I  have  heard  of  puppet-hearts, 
and  wicked  hearts,  and  hard  hearts,  but  never  till  now, 
Rose,  of  a  broken  heart." 

"  A  broken  heart  is  all  I  boast  of,  and  a  poor  thing  it  is, 
and  sad  its  story  to  me,  perhaps  to  you  foolish." 

"  I  have  seen  nothing  foolish  in  you,  Rose,  only  some 
things  that  I  could  not  understand,  and  some  that  made  me 
very  sad.  Do  tell  me  all." 

"I  am  simply  one,"  said  Rose,  "  who  has  pined  for  human 
sympathy,  a  disease  of  which  I  am  about  to  die,  coupled  with 
a  few  other  things.  But  let  me  tell  you,  you  once  asked  my 
name.  I  used  to  be  called  Rose  Elphiston.  1  had  a  father, 
a  mother,  and  a  dear  sister.  My  native  town  is  Win- 
denboro',  about  thirty  miles  hence.  My  father  was  a 
clergyman,  venerable  and  esteemed.  We  were  a  very 
happy  family,  none  could  be  more  so,  until  I  ruined  their 
happiness.  O,  Margaret,  you  have  no  sins  to  cause  you 
to  shed  tears,  as  I  have — but  hear.  I  had  companions, 
pretty  and  lively  young  girls,  with  whom  I  ought  to  have 
been  content,  but  was  not.  No  voice  spake  what  my  heart 
felt,  no  eyes  saw  what  mine  did,  so  I  must  needs  be  silent, 
and  look  where  others  did  not,  and  then  I  took  to  making 
company  of  brooks  and  flowers  and  my  own  thoughts,  and 
such  things.  I  thought  I  would  give  the  universe  if  I 
could  find  somebody's  else  heart  beating  into  my  own,  or 
somebody's  else  eyes  looking  through  mine.  I  longed  for 
a  twin  existence ;  to  drive  and  find  myself  in  another.  My 
father  and  mother  loved  me,  and  my  sister  was  always  kind 
to  me,  but  she  had  not  the  same  feelings  that  I  had.  One 


72  MARGARET. 

day  there  was  a  donation  party  at  our  house.  The  ladies 
of  the  town  brought  their  wheels  and  spun  quantities  of 
flax,  which  they  gave  to  my  mother  ;  and  the  young  men 
made  an  ox-sled  that  they  presented  to  Pa.  A  merry  time 
it  was,  and  I  enjoyed  it  with  the  rest.  Among  the  young 
men  was  a  stranger  in  town,  a  gentleman  from  New  York, 
who  was  called  Raxman.  He  contributed  largely  towards 
the  sled.  He  spoke  to  me  in  a  manner  different  from  the 
rest;  he  was  a  great  admirer  of  nature,  and  seemed  in  many 
things  to  anticipate  my  own  feelings.  My  thought,  and  I 
do  not  know  but  I  must  say  my  affections,  turned  towards 
him  with  the  quickness  of  the  needle  to  the  pole.  All  at 
once  I  fancied  that  in  him  my  ideal  was  complete.  But  I 
am  only  telling  you  a  love-story,  Margaret." 

"  It  is  all  new  and  strange  to  me,  Rose ;  do  tell  me  every 
thing." 

"  But  Raxman  was  base  and  unprincipled.  I  was  horror- 
struck,  stupefied  at  his  conduct,  I  know  not  what,  I  must 
have  fainted ;  I  only  remember  being  borne  into  the  house 
of  one  of  our  town's  folk ;  and  then  walking  home.  A 
crowd  of  people  met  me  in  the  way  with  taunts  and  hisses. 
I  seemed  to  lose  my  self-control,  I  became  confused  and 
maddened.  I  did  not  answer  my  own  parents  coherently. 
I  was  summoned  before  a  magistrate,  and  condemned  to 
stand  in  the  pillory  with  a  rope  on  my  neck,  and  have  a 
significant  red  letter  sewed  to  my  back.  My  father  most 
earnestly  interceded  for  me,  and  only  the  latter  part  of  the 
sentence  was  executed.  Raxman  fled.  I  was  reduced  to 
a  state  bordering  on  distraction,  I  would  make  no  con 
fession,  I  repelled  and  scoffed  at  the  whole  world  I  tore 
the  detested  badge  from  my  shoulders.  I  was  caught  in  the 
streets  by  my  own  playmates,  carried  to  women  who  had 
once  loved  me  as  a  daughter,  and  by  their  own  hands  was 


ROSE    REAPPEARS.  73 

it  replaced.  My  father  interposing  in  my  behalf,  lost  credit 
with  the  parish,  old  difficulties  were  renewed,  and  by  this 
head  of  opposition  he  was  swept  from  his  influence,  his 
salary  and  his  pulpit.  He  died  soon  of  that  disease  with 
which  his  daughter  will  ere  long  follow  him,  a  broken  heart, 
My  mother,  always  of  a  delicate  constitution,  enfeebled  by 
the  excitement  of  the  times,  was  not  long  behind  my  father ; 
she  too  died.  My  sister  became  insane.  I  alone  watched 
by  her  in  her  fearful  ravings  ;  I  prayed  that  I  might  become 
insane  too.  She  at  length  took  the  mood  that  I  was  her 
enemy,  and  I  was  obliged  to  leave  her  ;  she  was  carried  to 
the  poorhouse.  On  me  no  door  was  opened,  to  me  no 
friendly  face  was  turned.  An  example,  they  said,  must  be 
made  of  the  Parson's  daughter, '  her  will  must  be  humbled ; ' 
1  if  she  escapes,  contamination  will  spread  in  all  our 
families.'  I  could  not  yield.  All  the  energies  of  my 
being  rebelled.  In  addition,  let  me  tell  you,  my  father 
was  a  believer  in  the  doctrine  of  Election  and  Repro 
bation.  What  he  preached  I  found  myself  compelled  to 
carry  out  in  practice  ;  I  believed  myself  thoroughly  repro 
bated.  In  my  earliest  years  I  was  very  thoughtful,  it  was 
said  that  I  often  experienced  the  strivings  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  I  was  under  conviction  three  months,  and  at  last 
obtaining  a  hope,  was  admitted  to  the  Church — you  do  not 
understand  these  things,  Margaret,  your  education  has  been 
so  different — " 

"  Only  tell  them,  Rose,  and  I  shall  understand  them." 
"  Even  then  I  was  not  at  ease  ;  the  first  flush  of  youthful 
enthusiasm  soon  spent  itself,  and  pious  people  np  longer 
satisfied  me  ;  the  singing  of  hymns  and  going  to  Pre 
paratory  Lectures  became  irksome.  I  sought  in  books  and 
the  woods  what  I  did  not  find  in  religion.  My  father's 
sermons,  my  mother's  private  admonitions  had  no  effect 

VOL.  II.  7 


74  MARGARET. 

upon  me.  I  found  myself  growing  hard  as  a  rock  to  all 
serious  impressions.  Being  negligent  in  my  Christian 
duties,  I  became  the  subject  of  Church  accusation  and 
reprimand.  I  felt  badly  to  be  disgraced,  I  have  wept 
bitter  tears  when  I  thought  of  my  mother's  tears,  but 
religious  considerations  had  not  a  tittle  of  weight  with  me. 
In  this  situation  I  was  when  I  encountered  Raxman,  on  the 
one  hand  yearning  for  an  indefinite  good,  and  most 
sensitive  to  all  impressions  of  beauty ;  on  the  other, 
reduced  by  a  consciousness  of  religious  dereliction,  and 
wholly  indifferent  to  the  state  of  my  soul.  The  sequel  of 
that  acquaintance  I  have  told  you.  Disgraced,  discarded, 
bereaved,  with  Job  I  would  have  cursed  God  and  died.  I 
went  to  an  uncle's  of  mine,  in  a  distant  town,  a  kind- 
hearted  man,  who  sought,  as  he  said,  to  bring  me  to  re 
pentance,  and  restore  my  Christian  peace,  by  an  application 
of  the  truths  of  the  Gospel.  This  only  rendered  my  situa 
tion  more  intolerable.  I  knew  of  a  cousin  of  my  mother, 
the  Widow  Wright,  who  had  once  been  at  our  house  ;  I 
knew  her  temperament  and  habits,  I  knew  how  secluded 
she  lived,  and  thinking  that  I  could  at  least  die  with  her,  if 
not  live,  and  that  I  could  render  myself  so  useful  my 
support  would  not  be  a  burden,  hither  I  came.  I  learned 
of  my  sister's  death  before  I  left  my  uncle's.  Here  you 
behold  me,  as  1  told  you,  a  broken-hearted  girl,  a  wreck,  a 
mutilation,  a  shadow  !  " 

"  Rose,  poor  Rose,  dear  Rose,"  outspoke  Margaret, 
"come  to  my  heart,  lie  down  in  my  spirit,  return  to  your 
sorrow's  home  in  my  soul.  A  prophetic,  unconscious 
sensation  is  fulfilled  in  you  !  An  unknown  aching  corre 
spondency  of  feeling  is  satisfied  !  You  shall  be  renewed  in 
my  arms,  you  shall  live  in  my  lo^e." 

"  O  Margaret !  "  replied  Rose,  "  I  am  vile,  I   am  sinful. 


ROSE    REAPPEARS.  75 

Your  pureness  appalls  me.  Yet  if  I  might  but  die,  and  be 
buried  here,  it  were  all  I  should  ask.  The  prayers  of  my 
innocence  I  can  utter  no  more,  the  dreams  of  my  childhood 
are  fled,  the  happiness  of  youth  is  gone,  the  inner  strength 
of  virtue  I  no  more  feel,  on  the  face  of  Beauty  I  wish  no 
more  to  look,  the  bloom  of  nature  is  transformed  to  dark 
ness  and  dread,  the  voices  of  birds  fill  me  only  with 
remorse.  Man  and  woman  I  loathe,  God  is  not.  Yes,  I 
have  become  an  atheist,  I  believe  nothing,  and  at  times  I 
fear  nothing." 

"  Your  sorrowful  pathway,  Rose,  I  am  sure  I  have 
followed,  I  have  overtaken  you  to  be  only  your  own  sad 
sister.  Why  did  you  not  speak  of  these  things  before?  " 

"  Only,  Margaret,  because  I  wronged  you.  I  felt  that  I 
never  could  speak  of  myself  to  any  one.  Who  could 
sympathize  with  me  ?  Who  could  bear  the  burden  of  my 
heart  ?  But  when  I  knew  that  you  too  had  suffered,  when 
I  saw  your  own  heart  innerly  moved,  I  could  no  mere 
restrain  myself.  I  am  sometimes  light-hearted,  or  I  should 
say  light-headed,  blithe  and  free,  and  sometimes  dejected 
beyond  recovery  or  reason — all  this  you  have  seen  and 
wondered  at." 

"  I  have  seen  it — yes — but  Father  Democritus,  I  think^ 
will  explain  it.  '  The  spirits/  he  says,  *  are  subtile  vapors 
expressed  from  the  blood,'  and  these,  coursing  backwards 
and  forwards  between  the  brain  and  the  heart,  produce  all 
sorts  of  feelingsT  Besides,  Rose,  this  melancholy  of  yours 
is  not  of  the  dark  kind,  but  very  white,  and  I  think  it  may 
be  cured.  '  Exercise'  is  recommended,  i  good  air,  music, 
gardening,  swimming,  hunting,  dancing,  laughing,'  all  these 
we  have.  '  Spoon  meat  and  pure  water,'  he  says,  are  ex 
cellent  ;  balm  and  aniseed  tea  will  drive  away  dumps 
and  cheer  the  spirits,  and  these  your  aunt,  the  Widow,  will 


76  MARGARET. 

furnish.     You  never  read  the  Anatomy  of  Melancholy  ;  it 
is  a  most  wonderful  book,  and  will  cure  you  immediately." 
<k  You  are  good,  Margaret,  if  you  do  banter  me.     If  I 
were  any  body  else  but  what  I  am,  I  should  more  than 
half  believe  what  you  say  to  be  true.     That  I  can  laugh, 
you  know*     That  I  love  Chilion's  music,  you  also  know.    I 
would  dance  if  I  had  an  opportunity.     I  used  to  think  it  a 
sin,  but  all  qualms  of  that  sort  are  gone  forever." 
"  Eat  the  plums,  Rose." 
"  I  will,  for  Mr.  Evelyn's  sake," 

"  For  my  sake,  for  their  own  sake.     You  would  not  see 
Mr.  Evelyn !  " 

"  No  ;  I  could  see  nobody  but  you*     I  was  too,  too  much 
ennuyee,  too  wicked." 

"  Eat  the  plums,  and  perhaps  I  have  a  story  to  tell  you 

of " 

"  Mr.  Evelyn  ?  " 

"  No  ;  but  of  somebody.  I  shall  not  tell  you  who,  Mr. 
Anonymous." 

"  Really,  Margaret,  I  am  anxious  to  hear.  What  have 
you  to  say  ?  Where  did  you  see  him  ?" 

"  Here,  at  the  Pond.     My  story  is  not  so  long  as  yours, 
and  I  will   begin  with   what  I  know.     Scarlet  coat,  white 
breeches,  Napoleon  hat,  sparkling  black  eyes,  large  black 
whiskers  meeting  under  his  chin,  like  a  muskrat." 
"  Raxman !  " 

"  Raxman  !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 
"  It  was  he.     A  soft,  pleasant  voice  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  Raxman.     The  very  same." 

"  I  do  remember  his  echoing  your  name  in  a  strange 
way,  when  I  told  him  such  a  one  was  in  the  neighbor 
hood." 


ROSE    REAPPEARS.  77 

"  I  did  not  think  of  it  at  the  time,  but  I  can  recollect  a 
sort  of  suspicion  I  had  that  he  was  here.  Obed  told  me 
of  his  rencontre  on  the  Head.  But  what  with  the  boy's 
fear  and  his  ardor,  his  perceptions  were  not  very  clear, 
and  all  he  remembered  was  the  black  whiskers.  I 
have  suspected,  too,  that  my  aunt  knew  of  him,  but  she  is 
a  very  queer  woman,  and  I  do  not  pretend  to  sound  her. 
Were  you  not  afraid  ?  " 

"  No  more  than  I  am  of  the  cows,  who  are  ever  disposed 
to  yield  the  path  when  I  am  ready  to  demand  it ;  this  I  have 
been  trying  to  teach  Isabel,  who  always  runs  from  them. — 
Obed's  tempestuousness  may  have  hastened  that  man's  de 
parture,  but  it  did  not  secure  my  safety.  Indeed,  he  inter 
rupted  me  sorely,  and  I  lost  patience.  It  was  Court  week, 
you  know,  and  I  supposed  it  was  some  lawyer,  or  other 
stranger  in  town ;  he  came  two  or  three  times,  his  man 
ners,  as  Mrs.  Beach  would  say,  were  excellent.  Yet  I  was 
perfectly  alone  even  while  he  was  present.  He  was  no 
company  to  my  thought,  and  when  at  last  he  broke  in  upon 
my  solitude,  by  kneeling  before  me  and  saying  something 
about  adoration,  he  so  far  recalled  me  to  myself  and  attract 
ed  my  attention,  that  I  cried  out  at  the  intrusion." 

"  And  so  you  wonder,"  said  Rose,  "  that  my  name  and 
his  should  ever  be  brought  together,  that  I  could  have  been 
drawn  towards  him.  You  will  blame  me  more  than  you 
pity  me." 

"  Why  should  I  blame  you  ?" 

"  For  loving  Raxman." 

"  Ought  I  not  to  honor  you  for  that  ?  What  else,  as  a 
Christian,  could  you  do,  if  he  were  the  pitiful  wretch  you 
describe  ?  " 

"  Death  and  forever,  Margaret !  Don't  you  know  I  am 
7* 


78  MARGARET. 

no  Christian ;   that  I  abhor  and  eschew   the  name ;  you 
know  I  mean  something  different  from  such  an  affection." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

• "  An  absorbing  concentration  on  some  one  object,  an  in 
tense  movement  to  a  single  point,  a  gravitation  of  your 
whole  being  around  a  solitary  centre." 

"  Is  that  what  you  mean  by  love  ?  " 

"  Yes.  You  think  of  nothing  else,  dream  of  nothing  else, 
care  tor  nothing  else,  as  you  do  for  that  one  object." 

"  And  all  this  you  felt  for  Raxman  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  no  !  I  wanted  to  feel  it  for  some  one.  I  wanted 
some  Infinite  to  come  and  take  up  my  soul,  and  he,  a  devil, 
disguised  as  an  angel  of  light,  appeared  and  deluded  me.  I 
cannot  tell  all  I  felt  for  him  ;  it  was  something ;  it  was  too 
much,  but  it  was  not  that.  His  dress  or  look  did  not  capti 
vate  me.  He  did  indicate  a  sort  of  sympathy  for  my  tastes, 
and  my  solitariness,  a  meteoric,  impassioned  counterfeit  of 
the  thing.  He  made  no  impression  on  you,  and  me  he 
affected  deeply ! " 

"  How  shall  I  blame  you  for  that  ?  What  you  have  said, 
Rose,  is  new,  anagogic,  mysterious —  " 

"  Wholly  so  ?     Nay,  tell  me,  Margaret." 

"  How  urgent  you  are,  Rose !  " 

"  Is  there  no  oneness,  no  individuality,  to  all  you  feel,  or 
ever  have  felt  ?  " 

"  I  love  Chilion,  and  Isabel;  and  Job,  and  Rose." 


THE    HUSKING    BEE.  79 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    HUSKING    BEE. 

IT  was  now  later  in  the  Fall.  The  leaves  of  the  trees, 
merging  from  their  bright  dappled  colors  into  a  dull,  uni 
form  brown,  had  dropped  to  the  earth,  and  were  swept  by 
the  winds  in  dusty  crackling  torrents,  and  borne  to  unknown 
resting-places  on  the  bosom  of  every  tinkling  rill.  The 
crops  were  harvested;  potatoes  garnered  in  the  cellar, 
apples  carried  to  the  cider-mill,  corn  stacked  for  husking. 
A  part  of  Margaret's  work  for  the  season  was  gleaning 
from  the  bounties  of  forest  and  field ;  and  aided  by  Rose, 
she  got  quantities  of  walnuts,  chestnuts,  and  vegetable 
down. 

The  family  had  formerly  relied  on  beasts  of  the  chase  to 
meet  their  extraneous  expenses,  but  Chilion  was  no  longer 
able  to  hunt  for  them,  even  if  the  supply  itself  were  not 
diminished.  What  a  poorly-cultivated  farm  afforded  could 
no  more  than  keep  these  people  in  food  and  clothing.  Pluck 
had  done  little  towards  the  redemption  of  his  estate.  Nor 
could  it  fail  of  observation  that  Solomon  Smith  had  ren 
dered  himself  quite  conspicuous  of  late,  in  urging  the  claim 
of  his  father  on  Mr.  Hart.  It  was  evident  he  regarded 
Margaret,  and  through  her,  the  whole  house,  with  a  pointed 
interest,  a  mixed  feeling  of  aversion  and  esteem.  Ever 
since  the  unfortunate  issue  of  the  gold-hunt,  he  seemed  to 
look  upon  her  as  his  evil  genius,  yet  one  of  a  nature  not 
to  be  slighted,  and  whose  favor  it  was  worth  no  small  effort 
to  gain, 


80  MARGARET. 

At  the  time  in  which  this  chapter  opens,  the  affairs  of 
the  family  were  not  a  little  involved.  There  were  sundry 
items  at  Deacon  Penrose's ;  a  large  item  of  rum,  interest 
money,  expenses  accruing  at  the  hospital,  etc.,  and  a  beg 
garly  account  of  offsets.  Nimrod  might  have  afforded 
some  relief,  but  his  habits  were  reckless  as  his  temper  was 
volatile  ;  he  tended  bar,  groomed,  raced,  peddled,  smuggled, 
blacksmithed,  and  what  not,  but  saved  little  money.  The 
drafts  on  Mr.  Girardeau  were  regularly  made  and  con 
scientiously  devoted  to  Margaret.  What  she  earned  dur 
ing  her  few  weeks  school-keeping,  Pluck  refused  utterly  to 
employ  on  his  own  necessities,  but  insisted  she  should  lay 
it  out  for  clothes.  Mistress  Hart,  originally  a  good  weaver, 
fell  off  in  her  care  and  her  business  together,  and  drank  more, 
and  was  more  irritable  than  ever  ;  while  her  husband,  from 
the  same  cause,  grew  every  day  more  merry.  Through 
the  intercession  of  Deacon  Ramsdill  and  Master  Elliman, 
Esq.  Beach  consented  to  receive  Margaret  as  private  tutor 
to  his  children  ;  a  duty  upon  which  she  was  expecting  to 
enter  immediately  after  the  Husking  Bee,  the  great  an 
nual  family  festival.  Before  attending  to  that,  let  us  go 
back  in  our  narrative  for  a  moment. 

The  early  infantile  relations  of  Margaret  cannot  have 
been  forgotten.  What  became  of  Mr.  Girardeau  ?  Had 
he  no  knowledge  of  Margaret  these  many  years  ?  It  may 
not  be  out  of  place  to  state  the  following.  The  year  pre 
vious  to  that  of  the  present  chapter,  there  came  to  the  Pond 
an  old  man  wearing  a  wig,  and  dressed  in  other  respects 
like  a  clergyman.  When  he  entered  the  house,  Brown 
Moll,  who  seemed  to  have  an  intuitive  dread  of  the  cloth, 
disappeared,  and  the  stranger  was  left  alone  with  Margaret. 
He  asked  for  a  cup  of  water,  gave  her  a  close  perusal  with 
his  eye,  inquired  the  road  to  Parson  Welles's,  mounted  his 


THE    HUSKING    BEE.  81 

horse  and  disappeared.     This  was  Mr.  Girardeau.     His 
object  in  this  transient  visit  is  not  disclosed. 

At  the  Bee,  which  fell  on  a  pleasant  evening,  in  the  early 
part  of  October,  were  collected  sundry  people  from  the 
several  districts  bordering  on  Mons.  Christi ;  there  were 
also  present  the  Master,  Abel  Wilcox,  Sibyl  Radney,  and 
Rose,  who  if  she  had  become  an  inmate,  as  Margaret 
promised,  of  her  heart,  was  almost  equally  so  of  her  house 
and  bed.  Nimrod  was  also  at  home,  and  for  his  honor  in 
part  this  occasion  was  supposed  to  make.  The  corn  was 
piled  in  the  centre  of  the  capacious  kitchen,  around  the 
heap  squatted  the  buskers.  The  room  was  abundantly  as 
well  as  spectrally  lighted  from  the  immense  fireplace 
briskly  glowing  with  pitch  knots  and  clumps  of  bark. 
Chilion  sat  near  the  fire,  quietly  busy,  platting  a  basket, 
which  he  now  and  then  laid  down  for  his  fiddle,  as  better 
suited  to  the  hour.  The  workmen  varied  their  labors  with 
such  pleasantry  as  was  natural  to  the  occasio'n  ;  great  ardor 
was  evinced  in  pursuit  of  the  red  ear,  for  which  piece  of 
fortune  the  discoverer  had  the  privilege  of  a  kiss  from  any 
lady  he  should  nominate.  The  much  coveted  color  at  last 
made  its  appearance  in  the  hands  of  Solomon  Smith ;  but 
Ambrose  Gubtail  said  that  Solomon  brought  it  in  his  pocket, 
while  Smith  himself  was  equally  certain  he  found  it  in  the 
heap.  Relying  upon  this  assurance  he  announced  that 
he  should  select  Margaret  for  the  customary  favor,  while 
she  delayed  responding  to  his  call  till  it  should  be  ascer 
tained  how  he  came  by  the  ear  in  question  ;  and  thus  for 
the  present  the  matter  dropped.  The  pile  was  finished, 
and  the  hard  glossy  ears  were  stowed  under  the  eaves  of  the 
garret.  Next  came  a  brief  relay  of  food  and  drink.  This 
was  followed  by  a  dance,  in  form  and  spirit  befitting  the 
character  of  the  company  and  that  of  their  musician.  Even 


82  MARGARET. 

Rose  dismissed  her  gloom  and  exchanged  smiles  with 
Margaret,  when  Master  Elliman,  in  full-blown  wig  and 
flaunting  cuffs,  sought  her  for  a  partner,  and,  bowed  her  to 
the  floor  with  the  precise  courtliness  and  bland  mannerism 
of  the  Old  School.  Next  succeeded  a  scene  that  promised 
greater  entertainment  than  any  thing  before. 

A  long  table  of  rough  boards  stretched  across  the  room, 
laden  with  the  fruits  of  the  season,  pewter  platters  of  cakes, 
bottles  of  wine  and  spirits,  and  prominently,  the  silver 
family  tankard  of  cider.  These  were  in  part  the  contribu- 
bution  of  the  Master,  Nimrod,  and  the  neighbors,  who  in 
this  matter  were  either  returning  or  anticipating  obligations 
in  kind.  Preeminent  above  all  in  the  centre  of  the  table 
was  a  grotesque  piece,  a  pyramidal  pile  of  pumpkins,  each 
emptied  of  its  core,  perforated  with  sundry  holes,  and 
containing  a  piece  of  lighted  candle ;  and  the  whole 
representing  a  very  comical  sort  of  lantern,  or  a  monstrous 
beast  bestarred  with  glaring  eyes.  Pluck  sat  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  having  Rose  at  his  side,  Master  Elliman 
occupied  the  foot ;  the  others  were  disposed  on  blocks  of 
wood,  the  shaving  horse  and  the  kit.  Margaret  lighted 
the  pumpkin-chandelier,  and  took  her  seat  by  the  fire 
opposite  Chilion. 

"  Brethren  and  Sisters,"  began  Pluck,  who  was  excited 
by  liquor,  "it  behoveth  us  to  proceed  with  solemnity. 

"In  yonder  pumpkin  shrine  burn  the  fires  of  our  Divinity, 
fed  by  mutton  tallow.  Rising  all,  in  meek  obeisance  due, 
pressing  the  bottom  of  our  soles,  worship  we  his  Majesty. 
Thy  health  we  drink,  thy  name  we  praise,  GREAT  KING 
OF  PUPPETDOM  !  defender  by  the  grace  of  God  of  England, 
France  and  America ;  with  the  most  serene,  serene,  most 
puissant,  puissant,  high,  illustrious,  noble,  honorable,  wise 
and  prudent  Burgomasters,  Counsellors,  Governors,  Com- 


THE    HUSKING    BEE.  83 

mittees  and  all  demigods  of  thy  powerful  and  mighty  realm. 
Now,  brethren,  sincethe  gods  help  them  that  help  them 
selves,  as  Poor  Richard  says,  let  us  verify  the  promise,  by 
laying  hold.  In  the  words  of  my  bibblecal  son,  Mahar- 
shalalhashbaz,  '  I  feel  that  in  my  flesh  dwelleth  no  good 
thing.'  Rose,  dear,  have  an  apple,  a  pearmain,  here  is  no 
curse  ;  it  shall  wed  your  name  to  your  face  ;  pity  it  is,  as 
the  old  Indian  said,  Eve  had  not  left  the  apples  to  make 
cider  with.  S'death  !  how  pale  you  grow.  Take  some 
genuine  Bacrag.  That's  charming.  What  a  nice  example 
you  set  to  our  Molly. 

'  When  I  drain  the  rosy  bowl, 
Joy  exhilarates  my  soul. ' " 

"  I  dont  hold  to  getting  drunk,"  said  Abel  Wilcox.  "  I 
believe  in  drinking  just  enough." 

"  Thou  art  an  homulculus,  Abel,"  responded  Master 
Elliman,  waving  to  and  fro  betwixt  inebriation  and  an 
attempt  to  be  merry.  "  Thou  wilt  not  reel  in  honest  drunk 
enness  but  dost  posture-make  before  heaven  and  earth  after 
a  most  damnable  sort." 

" '  How  pleasant  'tis  to  see 
Brethren  to  dwell  in  unitee  / ' " 

drawled  Pluck.  "  The  toasts,  friends.  Twelve,  in  honor 
of  the  Twelve  Apostles. 

"  First ;  Ourselves,  and  all  that  pertains  to  us. 

"  Second ;  The  Constituted  Authorities  of  every  man's 
body  and  mind. 

"  Third;  Freedom  of  speech,  thought,  touch,  sight,  smell, 
taste,  earth  and  air. 

"  Fourth  ;  Jemima  Wilkinson,  Consul  Napoleon,  Dr. 
Byles  and  St.  Tammany. 

"  Fifth  ;  Success  to  our  arms. 


84  MARGARET. 

"  Sixth  ;  The  Memory  of  the  brave  Johnny  Stout. 

"  Seventh  ;  The  Patriots  of  the  Pond,  No.  4,  Breakneck 
and  Snakehill. 

"  Eighth  ;  Perpetual  itching  without  the  benefit  of  scratch 
ing  to  all  our  enemies. 

"  Ninth ;  All  true  and  upright  Masons,  who  saw  the 
East  when  the  light  rose,  and,  by  name,  the  Right  Wor 
shipful,  Past  Grand  Deacon,  Bartholomew  Elliman, 
pedagogue ;  with  a  tear  for  all  brother  Cowans. 

f(  Tenth  ;  All  pumpkin-headed,  mutton-tallow-lighted 
Gods  and  Goddesses,  Priests  and  Lawyers. 

"  Eleventh  ;  The  liquor  of  Jove. 

'  Anacreon.  they  say,  was  a  jolly  old  blade, 
Good  wine,  boys,  said  he,  is  the  liquor  of  Jove.' 

"  Twelfth  ;  The  Officers  and  Soldiers  in  the  Present 
War." 

Abel  Wilcox.  "  Now  that  the  Regulars  are  disposed  of, 
I  begin  with  the  volunteers. 

"  Death  to  the  Excise  Laws." 

Joseph  Whiston.  "  The  memory  of  Eli  Parsons  and 
Daniel  Shays,  with  a  tear  for  Bly  and  Rose." 

Brown  Moll.  "  General  Washington,  Jonathan  Trumbull 
and  John  Hancock." 

Pluck.     «  King  George  III," 

Mr.  Tapley.     "  Samuel  Adams." 

Tony,  the  Barber.  "  The  honorable  Profession  of  all 
gentlemen." 

The  Widow  Wright.  "  Death  teu  quacks  and  success 
teu  the  gennewines. 

The  Master.  "  Mistress  Margaret,  C.  B.  Gustos  Bibble- 
orum." 

Many   Voices.     "  Margaret,  Margaret ! " 

Pluck.     "  Let  this  be  drank  standing." 


THE    HUSKING    BEE.  85 

The  Master.  "  Nay,  good  friends,  be  not  too  hasty. 
Feminam  et  vinura,  Margaret,  C.  B.  and  the  Bey  of 
Muscat." 

"Do  drink  with  us,"  called  Rose  to  Margaret,  who 
quietly  tended  the  fire.  "  There  is  marvellous  relief  in  it. 
Let  us  accept  what  the  hour  gives  and  forget  ourselves.  I 
have  heard  of  drowning  sorrows  in  liquor, — why  retain 
them  when  they  can  be  despatched  so  easily  ?  " 

"Jam  satis  nivis  ;  mea  discipula, 
Nunc  est  bibendum,  nunc  pede  libero 
Pulsanda  tcllus," 

added  the  Master. 

"  Come,  Molly,  pretty  dear ; "  set  in  her  father, "  no  black 
strap  to  night ;  no  switchel,  or  ginger-pop.  Brown  Bastard, 
Aqua  Ccelestis,  Geneva,  Muscadine — have  your  choice  ; 
come  crush  a  glass  with  your  dear  Papa  ;  and  all  this  nice 
company.  You  have  skinked  quite  long  enough." 

u  I  hold  under  my  thumb  and  finger  the  veritable  Lach 
rymal  Christi,"  resumed  the  Master,  "just  what  you  are  in 
search  after,  Mistress  Margaret." 

"  Tears  of  Christ !  "  answered  Margaret.  "  Can  it  be 
that  name  is  given  to  any  ?  Who  could  have  thought  of  the 
idea  ?  I  could  drink  a  barrel  of  those  tears." 

"  The  unsophisticated,  megalopsychal,  anagogical  Lach- 
ryma3  Christi !  "  rejoined  her  teacher. 

"  The  songs,  gentlemen  and  ladies,  the  songs,"  vociferated 
the  head  of  the  house. 

"  Let  us  edify  ourselves  with  one  stanza  of  the  New 
England  Hymn  in  memory  of  our  distinguished  friend  and 
the  prince  of  Paronomasiacks,  Dr.  Byles,"  said  the  Master  ; 
whereupon  they  all  sang 

"  To  Thee  the  tuneful  Anthem  soars, 

To  Thee,  our  Fathers'  God,  and  ours  ; 
VOL.  IT.  8 


86  MARGARET. 

This  "Wilderness  we  chose  our  seat ; 
To  Rights  secured  by  Equal  Laws, 
From  Persecution's  Iron  Claws, 
We  here  have  sought  our  calm  retreat." 

Pluck  himself  then  sang: — 

"  God  bless  our  king 
And  all  his  royal  race  ; 
Preserve  the  Queen,  and  grant  that  they 
May  live  before  thy  face." 

Immediately  his  loving  wife  answered  in  agreeable 
antiphony : — 

"  These  shouts  ascending  to  the  sky 
Proclaim  Great  Washington  is  nigh  ! 
Let  strains  harmonious  rend  the  air, 
For  see,  the  Godlike  Hero's  here  ! 

Thrice  hail !  Columbia's  favorite  Son  ! 

Thrice  welcome,  matchless  Washington  !  " 

"  You've  got  the  fogs  broke  ;  let  us  have  a  few  select 
pieces,"  cried  Pluck.  "  Sweet  Sibyl  begin.  What  shall  it 
be — give  us  '  Lovewell's  Fight.' " 

The  delicate  maiden,  thus  invited,  with  tone  and  cadence 
that  cannot  be  described  while  it  yet  captivated  her 
audience,  sang  a  lay  which  an  earlier  patriotism  had 
inspired,  and  such  as  was  still  cherished  by  the  people : — 

"  Of  worthy  Captain  Lovewell  I  purpose  now  to  sing 
How  valiantly  he  served  his  country  and  his  king — 
'Twas  nigh  unto  Pigwacker,  on  the  eighth  day  of  May, 
They  spied  the  rebel  Indians  soon  after  break  of  day. 

"Our  worthy  Captain  Lovewell  among  them  there  did  die, 
They  killed  Lieutenant  Kobbins,  and  wounded  good  young  Frye, 
Who  was  our  English  Chaplain ;  he  many  Indians  slew, 
And  some  of  them  he  scalped  when  bullets  round  him  flew." 

"  Grace,  thou  apostolic  child,  give  us  the  pathetic,"  was 


THE    HUSKING    BEE.  87 

the  next  call  of  the  president  of  the  assembly.     "  Chilion, 
you  must  change  your  key  ;  try  some  Malaga,  my  son." 

Grace  Joy  indulged  them  with  a  ballad  that  brought 
more  tears  into  the  eyes  of  the  friends  of  Margaret  than  it 
ever  will  again  ;  a  portion  of  which  is  preserved : — 

"  Come  listen  all,  while  I  a  mournful  tale  do  tell ; 
John  Clouse,  poor  youth,  in  wicked  ways  he  fell ; 
Nor  had  he  reached  his  twentieth  year  and  three, 
When  he  hung  on  the  awful  gallows-tree. 

"'Gainst  Abr'ham  Dade  his  murderous  envy  moved, — 
In  youth's  soft  years  they  oft  together  roved — 
At  dead  of  night  he  seized  his  axe,  and  swore 
Ere  morning  light  Abr'ham  should  be  no  more." 

"  Beulah  Ann  will  favor  us  with  the  sentimental,"  said 
Pluck.  "  New  cider,  my  son,  soft  and  sweet." 

This  young  lady  responded  in  such  lines  as  these : — 

"  Hard  is  the  fate  of  him  who  loves, 
Yet  dares  not  tell  his  am'rous  pain 
But  to  the  sympathetic  groves, 
But  to  the  lonely  listening  plain. 

"  Ye  Nymphs  !  kind  spirits  of  the  vale, 
Zephyrs  !  to  whom  our  tears  are  dear, 
From  dying  lilies  waft  a  gale, 
Sigh  Strephon  in  his  Delia's  ear." 

"  We  want  a  dash  of  the  heroic,"  continued  the  chairman. 
"  Molly,  the  Indian's  Death  Song  ;  you  like  the  Indians, 
show  them  off  to  the  best  advantage.  Silence  all." 

Margaret  repeated  what  Chilion  had  taught  her,  and 
what  she  had  more  than  once  sung  in  the  loneliness  arid 
grandeur  of  the  hills  about  them  : — 

"  The  sun  sets  at  night  and.  the  stars  shun  the  day, 
But  glory  remains  when  the  light  fades  away; 
Begin,  ye  Tormentors  !     Your  threats  are  in  vain, 
For  the  Son  of  Alcomack  shall  never  complain. 


88  MARGARET. 

"  I  go  to  the  land  where  my  Father  has  gone, 
His  spirit  shal  rejoice  in  the  fame  of  his  son ; 
Death  comes  like  a  friend  to  relieve  me  of  pain, 
But  the  Son  of  Alcomack  shall  never  complain.1' 

"  Beautiful !  glorious ! "  so  the  old  man  applauded  his 
child ;  but  having  copiously  shared  in  festivities  that  he 
helped  apace,  advancing  from  liveliness  to  extravagance, 
he  rapidly  fell  into  his  wonted  dediriura.  "  How  the 
pumpkin  gods  grin! "he  shouted.  "Another  brimmer! 
Scrape  away,  Chilion.  Egad  !  what  a  breeze  we  are  get 
ting  into  !  Hoora  for  the  Old  Bastile  !  I  goes  ahead,  keep 
up  who  can  : — 

" '  They're  for  hanging  men  and  women, 
They're  for  hanging  men  and  women, 
They're  for  hanging  men  and  women, 

In  the  Old  Bastile. 

Then  the  Priests  should  be  the  hangmen, 
Then  the  Priests  should  be  the  hangmen, 
Then  the  Priests  should  be  the  hangmen, 

And  do  the  bloody  work. 
Pulpit  Priests  are  the  Baalams, 
Pulpit  Priests  are  the  Baalams, 
And  the  People  are  the  Asses, 
Whom  they  ride  to  Death  and  Hell.' 

"  Ho  !  neighbors,  a  hurdj-gurgy.  See  the  puppets  caper. 
There's  two  priests,  in  sailor's  rig,  black-balling  one  an 
other.  Whew  !  That's  Religion  you  see  next,  in  Harle 
quin's  dress ;  with  Faith  and  Repentance  playing  Punch 
and  Judy.  Six  Pumpkin  gods  after  a  nincompoop  sinner ! 
Grind  away,  my  boy  —  " 

"  Pa  is  going  off,  Nimrod,"  said  Margaret,  "  what  shall 
we  do?" 

u  Never  mind,"  replied  her  brother,  "  he'll  come  to.  He 
flakes  and  scatters  like  hot  iron ;  get  some  water,  that  will 
cool  him." 


THE    HUSKING    BEE.  89 

"  Haven't  you  learned  your  manners  yet,  Miss  Molly?" 
continued  the  old  man,  in  his  wild,  wandering  way.  "  Speak 
not  at  the  table ;  if  thy  superiors  be  discoursing,  meddle 
not  with  the  matter.  Smell  not  of  thy  meat,  turn  it  not  the 
other  side  upward  to  view  it  upon  thy  plate.  Talk  not  in 
meeting,  but  fix  thine  eye  on  the  minister.  Pull  off  thy  hat 
to  persons  of  desert,  quality,  or  office.  Hem  !  you'll  never 
do  for  Miss  Beach,  in  the  world,  till  you  learn  your  rules. 
Don't  interrupt  the  sport.  Knuckle  to,  my  good  fellow. 
Ha  !  ha !  King  George  and  old  Johnny  Trumbull  playing 
football  with  the  head  of  the  people.  Look  sharp,  Rose. 
Land !  what's  this?  Old  Nick  himself,  in  a  coach  and  two, 
with  the  Parson's  wig  and  bands ;  the  Archbishop  of  Can 
terbury  on  the  box  ;  St.  Peter  and  Whitfield  outriding. 
Give  them  the  long  oats,  Old  Sacristy  !  Jack  Pudding 
baptizing  four  Indians  in  the  River  Jordan  ;  souse  them  un 
der,  they'll  be  damned  if  you  leave  a  hair  dry — " 

"  Don't  let  him  go  on  so,"  said  Margaret ;  "  shall  I 
sprinkle  it  in  his  face  ?  " 

"  Hand  me  the  gourd,"  answered  Nimrod  ;  "  I'll  make 
him  sober  as  a  walrus." 

"  Don't  refuse  a  penny,  my  boy, — glory !  "  continued 
the  frantic  wretch.  "  Didn't  coachee  throw  the  silk  hand 
somely,  Rose  ?  Don't  have  such  a  show  every  day.  By 
the  living  jingo  !  it  grows  cold  and  dark.  Don't  I  shiver? 
Has  it  rained  over  night  ?  You  are  all  here,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  hope  none  of  you  are  wet.  Molly,  pile  on  the 
chips.  Hand  down  the  pipes ;  who  will  smoke  ?  Give 
your  dear  mamma  the  tobacco.  Here  is  for  a  game  of 
cards,  Old  Sedge ;  the  most  worshipful  Deacon,  my  bib- 
blecal  son,  Nimrod,  and  the  divine  Widow,  come.  Grace, 
you  stand  flasher.  Cut,  my  son.  It's  the  divinity's  deal — 
we  shall  have  fair  play.  Clubs  trumps,  knock  down  and 
8* 


90  MARGARET. 

drag  out.  You  are  flush,  Nimrod,  in  your  face,  if  you  an't 
in  hand." 

"You'll  have  teu  put  mugwort  in  yer  stampers,  Old 
Crisp,  before  ye  ketch  me  this  time,  I  cal'late ;  I'm  high, 
low,"  vapored  the  Widow. 

"  I'm  Jack  and  game,"  said  Nimrod. 

"  You  are  two  and.  Round  again,"  was  the  answer  of 
the  father. 

"  That  is  not  conformable  to  syntactic  rules.  Conjunc- 
tiones  copulative  conjungunt  verba  similia,"  the  Master 
attempted  to  deliver  himself. 

"  Molly,  dear,"  said  Pluck,  very  softly,  "  stir  the  embers, 
we  want  some  light  on  this  subject.  What  are  you  doing 
with  Sol  Smith  in  the  corner  ?  Is  he  giving  you  lessons 
in  the  bibblecal  art  ? 

"  Studium  grammaticum  omnibus  est  necessarium,"  mur 
mured  the  Master. 

"  Come,  Molly,  unravel  the  skein  of  the  Master's,"  in 
sisted  Pluck. 

"  You  shan't  go,  Peggy,  till  you  answer  me."  So  Solo 
mon  Smith  might  have  been  overheard  speaking  to  Mar 
garet,  whom  he  had  penned  in  the  chimney  corner,  where 
he  seemed  to  be  urging  some  point,  with  drunken  and 
dogged  pertinacity.  "  Let  the  buffleheads  work  out  their 
own  game." 

"  I  would  not  endure  it  a  moment,  if  she  were  my  sister." 
This,  Rose,  who  had  been  watching  the  conduct  of  Solomon, 
and  flushed  with  more  than  common  excitement,  addressed, 
under  her  breath,  to  Chilion ;  who  replied,  "  Sol  is  a  bad 
fellow.  He  has  no  music  in  his  soul,  and  such,  I  have  heard, 
are  fit  for  any  villany.  He  has  not  forgotten  the  wild- 
goose  chase  after  gold,  and  he  wreaks  his  disappointment 
on  Margaret." 


THE    HUSKING    BEE.  91 

"  Quantinupio  tentrapiorum  quaggleorum,  rattle  bang, 
with  a  slap  dash  ?  "  So  Pluck  rallied  his  friends.  "  It  is 
your  play,  Sir  Deacon." 

The  night  wore  on ;  they  drank,  sang,  and  gamed. 
Animation  was  heated,  freedom  rose  to  boisterousness, 
sport  turned  into  orgies.  Solomon  Smith,  boozy  and  gross, 
dangled  the  red  corn  in  Margaret's  face,  but  she  would  not 
yield  to  his  roguery  what  she  would  have  been  loath  to 
confer  on  his  better  moods,  the  disputed  kiss.  Chilion 
asked  Rose  to  bring  him  a  file  wherewith  to  fix  the  screws 
of  his  fiddle.  Rose  herself  had  drank ;  she  sought  to 
dissipate  the  gloom  of  her  mind  in  the  gayeties  of  the  hour, 
or  at  least  to  induce  upon  the  troubled  surges  of  her  being 
the  foam-like  glow  of  rustic  hilarity.  She  shuddered  at 
the  contact  of  Margaret  with  the  taverner  from  No.  4,  and 
strove  to  fill  Chilion's  mind  with  apprehensions  that  blindly 
agitated  her  own.  The  file  was  violently  hurled  across  the 
room.  At  the  same  moment,  Pluck  was  violently  thump 
ing  the  table.  Uproar  and  confusion  filled  the  place.  But 
why  multiply  words  when  the  catastrophe  is  even  now 
passed?  Solomon  Smith  then  and  there  fell,  killed, 
murdered,  under  the  agency  of  passions  that  from  innocent 
pastime  had  mounted  to  criminal  excess.  Darkness  and 
shadows  preceded  and  followed  the  terrible  event.  The 
table  with  its  multifarious  contents  was  upset,  and  the 
wretched  victim  lay  bleeding  under  the  file.  Alarm, 
bewilderment,  paralysis  4f  purpose  and  endeavor  suc 
ceeded.  Let  morning  dawn  on  the  scene  before  we 
attempt  to  analyze  it. 


92  MARGARET. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE     ARREST. — THE     PEOPLE    OF     LIVINGSTON    DELIBERATE    ON 
THE    STATE    OF    AFFAIRS. 

BUT  that  morning  rose  in  clouds  and  darkness  on  the 
Pond,  its  neighborhood,  and  the  town  of  Livingston. 
Rumor  of  what  had  befallen  was  quickly  disseminated. 
Early  in  the  forenoon  an  inquest  was  holden  on  the  body  of 
young  Smith,  and  it  was  declared  that  he  came  to  his  death 
from  violence  inflicted  by  one  or  more  members  of  the  family 
of  Pluck.  The  uncertainty  of  the  affair,  aggravated  by  the 
disordered  condition  of  the  witnesses,  rendered  it  expedient 
to  arrest  the  entire  household.  Shortly  on  the  Brandon 
Road,  which  but  a  few  days  before  Margaret  and  Mr. 
Evelyn  had  traversed  with  so  much  serene  hopefulness  and 
in  the  midst  of  such  inspiring  beauty,  appeared  the 
Constable,  Captain  Tuck,  armed  with  a  warrant  and 
supported  by  a  retinue  of  people,  bearing  sundry  instru 
ments  of  offence,  and  hastening  along  with  mingled  impre 
cations  and  laments.  There  turned  up  the  Delectable  Way 
a  multitude  large  as  once  bore  Margaret  in  triumphal 
procession  over  the  same  ground,  who  now  were  in  pursuit 
of  her  and  her  friends  with  tempers  exacerbated  by  the 
rehearsal  of  atrocious  deeds,  imaginations  inflamed  by 
horrific  suggestions,  and  a  purpose  which  nothing  less  than 
her  own  life  or  that  of  her  best  friends  could  qualify  or 
extinguish.  From  the  Via  Dolorosa  poured  in  numbers 
more  with  swords,  axes  and  pitchforks.  The  house  was 
surrounded,  and  the  pressure  upon  it,  if  cautious  and 


THE    ARREST.  93 

fearful,  was  yet  overwhelming.  Sibyl  Radney,  who  stood 
barring  the  door  with  her  back,  obliged  to  yield  to  the 
weight  of  the  crowd,  was  the  only  moving  person  to  be 
seen.  Pluck  and  his  wife,  stupefied  by  an  intoxication  that 
had  probably  been  enhanced  after  the  fatal  event  was 
understood,  Sibyl  had  dragged  to  their  bed.  The  some 
faithful  creature  had  endeavored  to  correct  the  wantonness 
and  disorder  of  the  night,  and  ere  the  people  arrived  she 
had  removed  the  fragments  of  the  debauch  that  covered 
the  flpor.  Over  the  decayed  and  blackened  embers  of  the 
fire  sat  Margaret  and  Chilion  in  rigid  silence  and  haggard 
immobility  ;  his  face  dropped  into  the  palms  of  his  hands, 
she  with  her  arms  closed  about  her  brother's  neck,  on  which 
her  head  was  sunk.  Hash  was  discovered,  overpowered 
by  his  fears  and  his  potations,  under  the  bed  in  the  garret. 
The  Widow,  foremost  in  execration  of  the  family  and 
loudest  in  clamor  for  vengeance,  declared  Nimrod  and 
Rose  had  fled  on  horseback  during  the  night.  The  Master 
was  found  in  a  thicket  near  the  water,  whither  in  his  own 
frenzy  and  the  turbulence  of  the  hour  he  had  betaken  him 
self,  plunged  to  his  knees  in  mire,  and  shaking  with  cold  and 
alarm. 

Margaret  and  Chilion,  without  remonstrance  or  delay, 
prepared  to  obey  the  summons  of  the  officer,  and  went 
forward  a-foot.  The  other  three  were  carried  in  a  cart  to 
the  Village,  where  they  were  all  consigned  to  the  Jail, 
there  to  lie  until  the  returning  senses  of  the  inebriated 
should  justify  an  examination.  The  Master  was  taken  to 
his  bed,  where,  with  fever  superadded  to  his  surfeit,  he  had 
a  prospect  of  remaining  for  some  time. 

Knots  of  curious  and  agitated  people  might  have  been 
seen  in  all  parts  of  the  Green.  The  more  considerable 
inhabitants  collected  at  the  store  of  Deacon  Penrose.  Let 


:  MARGARET. 

us  look  in  upon  them.  We  may  get  an  insight  to  the  spirit 
and  manners  of  the  time,  and  also  a  comprehension  of  in 
fluences  that  surrounded  the  criminal  case  about  to  come  off, 
and  had  a  bearing  on  the  destiny  of  Margaret. 

"  Mysterious  is  the  providence  of  God,"  outspoke  Parson 
Welles,  the  first  to  break  the  dubious  and  oppressive 
silence.  "  Some  are  appointed  to  damnation  by  a  just 
indeed  and  irreprehensible,  but  incomprehensible  judgment 
of  God  ;  some  he  brings  to  repentance  unto  life.  Let  us 
not  rebel  against  his  most  righteous  sovereignty.  In  what 
has  now  eventuated,  my  brethren  and  friends,  we  behold  the 
Scripture  verified,  that  the  carnal  mind  is  emnity  against 
God.  And  let  all  of  us,  whose  desert  is  the  same,  not  be 
high-minded,  but  fear;  let  us  humble  ourselves  before  the 
mighty  hand  of  God,  who  in  this  administereth  a  needed 
rebuke  for  our  manifold  sins." 

"  Can  any  one  tell  us  how  this  melancholy  affair  was 
brought  about  ?  "  inquired  Judge  Morgridge  after  a  pause. 

Deacon  Penrose.  (i  As  I  learn  from  Mr.  Wilcox,  who 
was  providentially  present  and  is  able  to  make  a  distinct 
report,  it  was  an  unprovoked  arid  malicious  attack  of  some 
members  of  that  depraved  family  on  the  unfortunate  young 
man." 

JZsquire  Beach.  "  I  think  I  can  inform  your  Honor 
more  explicitly,  that  it  is  probably  a  result  of  anterior  and 
long-cherished  animosities  on  the  part  of  the  persons 
apprehended,  against  the  family  of  Mr.  Smith,  arising  from 
indentures  in  the  hands  of  said  Smith  of  grants  and 
covenants,  on  the  part  of  said  persons,  yet  unfulfilled  and 
for  a  considerable  period  delayed." 

Deacon  Hadlock.  "  Why  do  we  mince  the  matter  ?  I 
can  tell  you  all  it  is  owing  to  defect  of  justice  ;  that  we 
havn't  heavier  penalties,  tighter  execution,  more  wholesome 


THE    PEOPLE    IN    COUNCIL.  95 

laws.  If  these  persons  had  only  been  kept  under,  or  been 
enough  broke  by  the  chas^'smeents  they  have  already  had, 
they  would  never  have  gone  these  lengths.  Truly  we  can 
say,  we  let  the  wicked  go  unpunished.  For  their  Sabbath- 
breaking,  their  disobedience  to  rulers,  their  unbelief,  their 
blasphemies,  their  hardness  of  heart,  their  stiff-neckedness 
and  perverse  ways,  has  this  come  upon  them.  And  for 
our  sinful  remissness  has  this  judgment,  lit  upon  the  town." 

Parson  Welles.  "  It  behoveth  us  in  truth  that  we  con 
sider  of  our  wicked  declensions  and  great  provocations 
before  God,  whereby  he  hath  reached  forth  to  us  this  bitter 
cup  of  shame  and  sorrow.  And,  brethren,  is  it  not  meet 
that  we  appoint  a  Fast,  touching  this  matter,  as  has  been 
the  practice  of  our  fathers  in  like  calamitous  visitations  ?" 

Little  Girl.     "  Daddy  wants  a  quart  of  cider-brandy. 

Deacon  Pemrose.  "  Mr.  Wilcox,  wait  on  this  child,  and 
then  fetch  in  some  glasses  and  a  measure  of  our  best  New 
England." 

Captain  Tuck.  "  We  had  a  heavy  frost  last  night,  the 
air  is  raw  and  piercing  this  morning,  and  this  is  trying 
business.  I  well  remember  during  the  War  standing  sentry 
by  the  General's  markee  half  the  night,  in  the  depth  of 
winter,  on  the  solid  snow,  barefoot,  with  never  a  drop  to 
cheer  or  warm  one  with." 

Deacon  Ramsdill.  "  It  takes  two  to  make  a  quarrel,  and 
I  count  there  must  have  been  something  hard  said  or  done 
on  t'other  side." 

Esq.  Beach.  "  Our  worthy  Deacon  would  do  nothing 
that  should  prejudice  the  case  or  compromit  the  parties 
concerned,  nor  interpose  obstacles  to  the  due  process  of 
justice  and  impartial  effect  of  the  laws.  His  generous 
feelings  we  know  always  tempt  him  to  act  in  behalf  of  those 


96  MARGARET. 

who  may  be  called  to  suffer  ;  but  he  should  remember  that 
law,  LAW  is  the  essence  of  the  Deity,  the  genius  of  the 
Bible,  the  guardian  Angel  of  humanity  ;  and  that  Law 
ever  must  be  and  ever  shall  be  sustained." 

Deacon  Ramsdill.  "  I  don't  know  much  about  law,  but 
I  know  something  about  nater.  A  cow  won't  kick  when 
she  is  milked  unless  she  has  either  core  in  her  dugs  or 
chopped  tits,  and  is  handled  roughly  ;  and  she  always 
knows  who  is  a  milking  of  her.  Cap'n  Tuck  speaks 
about  the  last  War.  I  recollect  when  we  was  in  the 
Provinces  down  to  Arcady,  where  the  Black  Flies  come 
out  thick  as  birds  arter  a  thunder  storm,  they  won't  let  you 
feel  the  sting  till  arter  you  see  the  blood.  I  guess  there 
has  been  a  great  Black  Fly  about  here  ;  andnow  the  blood 
has  come  we  begin  to  feel  the  sting." 

Parson  Welles.  "  We  have  convened  on  a  serious  intend- 
ment,  and  Brother  Ramsdill  would  be  in  the  way  of  Scrip 
ture  to  avoid  foolish  jesting  which  is  not  convenient,  and 
whereby  the  brethren  may  be  offended." 

Judge  Morgridge.  "  Is  it  understood  how  many  persons 
are  supposed  to  be  involved  in  this  deed  ?  Is  it  thought 
the  younger  female  member  of  the  family  is  to  be  accounted 
either  principal  or  accessory  ?  I  know  not  that  in  the 
present  stage  of  the  affair  I  ought  to  make  this  inquiry  ; 
nor,  considering  my  own  position,  whether  it  becomes  me 
to  raise  any  question  at  all.  I  do  it,  not  on  my  own  account, 
but  for  the  sake  of  others.  Pardon  me,  fellow-citizens,  if  I 
sometimes  remember  that  I  am  a  man." 

Deacon  Hadlock.  "  I  know  of  no  vessel  of  wrath  more 
fitted  for  destruction  than  that  gal.  She  is  so  hardened  in 
iniquity  that  any  abominable  conduct  is  to  be  looked  for  in 
her.  We  have  compassionated  her  ignorance,  but  it  is  of 


A, 


THE    PEOPLE    IN    COUNCIL.  97 

no  avail ;  we  have  done  all  that  could  be  done  for  her,  but 
she  braces  herself  agin  God,  despises  divine  truth,  breaks 
the  holy  Sabbath." 

Deacon  Ramsdill.  "  Sows  over-littered  eat  their  own 
pigs.  Perhaps  you  have  done  too  much  for  her,  Brother 
Hadlock.  Mabby  she  hasn't  forgot  the  bed  you  spread 
for  her  when  she  was  down  here  to  meetin'  a  few  year  ago, 
and  when  she  had  the  School  this  summer  past." 

Deacon  Penrose.  "  Will  the  Parson  taste  a  little  of  our 
New  England  ?  We  call  it  a  prime  article,  and  think  this 
the  very  best  we  ever  manufactured." 

Abel  Wilcox.  "It  has  as  handsome  a  bead  as  I  ever 
saw ;  and  we  think  it  possesses  a  flavor  very  much  like 
West  India." 

Parson  Welles.  "  Truly,  in  the  words  of  Scripture,  we 
may  say,  Give  strong  drink  unto  him  that  is  ready  to  perish, 
and  wine  to  those  that  be  of  heavv  hearts.  We  need  some 
thing  to  make  our  faces  shine  these  dark  times." 

Deacon  Penrose.     "  Gentlemen,  help  yourselves." 

Deacon  Ramsdill.  "  Down  to  Arcady,  when  a  rattle 
snake  bit  one,  his  comrade  sucked  out  the  pizen  ;  if  he 
didn't,  the  fellow  died.  I  think  we  had  better  try  and  see 
if  we  can't  get  some  of  the  pizen  out  of  these  poor  folk, 
instead  of  taking  it  into  our  own  bodies.  I  know  it's  a 
cold  morning,  but  sap  runs  best  arter  a  sharp  frost,  and 
my  blood,  old  -as  it  is,  is  enough  moved  without  any 
urging." 

Deacon  Hadlock.  Dark  times,  indeed,  Brother  Penrose  ; 
we  have  contempt  in  the  Church,  as  well  as  abuse  in  the 
State.  Things  are  getting  worse  and  worse  every  day. 
We  are  all  at  loose  ends.  Judgment  follows  judgment. 
The  Christian  religion  itself  is  just  tottering  to  fall.  The 
TJnivarsalists  I  heard,  yesterday,  had  appeared  a  little  to 

VOL  IT.  9 


98  MARGARET. 


the  west  of  us,  at  Dunwich  Equivalents  ;  their  preacher, 
John  Murray,  is  drawing  away  people  by  hundreds.  The 
Socinians  have  broke  into  the  fold  at  the  Bay.  But  for 
the  elects'  sake,  who  should  be  saved  !  " 

Judge  Morgridge.  "  It  is  an  old  story,  Deacon,  that  the 
times  are  deteriorating ;  I  have  heard  it  ever  since  I  was  a 
boy.  The  world  has  stood  some  pretty  hard  shocks,  and  it 
seems  to  be  able  to  survive  a  good  many  more.  So  the 
Worthy  Fuller  records,  more  than  a  century  ago,  *I  have 
known  the  City  of  London  forty  years,'  says  he  ;  '  their 
shops  did  ever  sing  the  same  tune  that  trading  was  dead  ; 
and  when  they  wanted  nothing  but  thankfulness,  this  was 
their  complaint.'  Let  us  be  patient,  Deacon,  and  the 
coming  tide  will  lift  us  from  the  rocks.  The  hand  that  has 
smitten  will  heal  our  wasted  and  torn  condition." 

Deacon  Ramsdill.  "  Time  is  the  stuff  that  life  is  made 
of,  as  Poor  Richard  says.  I  think  if  we  would  spin  and 
weave  it  better,  we  should  not  have  so  much  raggedness  to 
complain  of;  and  things  wouldn't  be  falling  to  pieces  so." 

Captain  Tuck.  "  Raggedness  and  ruin  !  what  do  gentle 
men  mean  ?  Have  we  not  had  a  glorious  War !  Are  we  not 
independent!  Isn't  this  a  great  country?  Was  there 
ever  an  era  like  the  present?  and  will  there  ever  be 
another  such  a  one  ?  Isn't  America  the  envy  of  all  worlds, 
and  isn't  it  honor  enough  to  have  fought  her  battles  even  if 
we  had  lost  our  all  ?  Does  she  not  shine  like  the  meridian 
sun  in  his  splendor?  Our  children  will  sigh  and  pine  for 
the  golden  period  in  which  we  now  live." 

Esq.  Bowker,  a  junior  practitioner,  and  recent  settler  in 
Livingston.  "  I  think,  if  I  may  take  the  liberty  to  express 
my  thought,  that  I  partially  agree  with  our  friend  Captain 
Tuck.  We  discern  indisputable  signs  of  improvement. 
There  is  an  amelioration  in  the  order  of  events ;  there  is  a 


THE    PEOPLE    IN    COUNCIL.  99 

softening  of  the  crude  and  undigested  matter  with  which 
the  breast  of  the  ages  has  been  so  long  gorged ;  Influence 
has  a  vigorous  but  better  regulated  pulse,  gladness  and  love 
are  on  its  countenance  ;  History  is  emerging  from  its  cor 
ruptions  and  appears  in  a  regenerated  form ;  there  is  a 
breaking  up  of  corrupt  Organization,  and  a  tendency  to 
wards  the  Unity  of  Love  ;  the  iron  and  mailed  hand  of 
Public  Opinion  greets  you  less  violently  ;  Prerogative  is 
disposed  to  relinquish  some  of  its  self-will  and  austerity  ; 
Literature  is  beginning  to  replenish  itself  from  the  infinity 
of  Virtue-;  Religion  is  becoming  more  humanized  ;  and  we 
can  scarcely  hope  to  enter  upon  the  new  century  that  is 
now  opening  to  us,  without  leaving  at  the  threshold  much 
trumpery  and  feculence,  and  bearing  with  us  abundant 
elements  of  a  renovated  condition." 

Deacon  Hadlock.  "Alas  the  day,  that  I  should  come 
to  this  !  Alas  the  day,  that  my  old  eyes  should  see  what 
they  now  see !  I  stand  like  a  man  cutting  the  gravestones 
for  his  own  wife  and  children.  I  sarved  under  the  old 
king,  I  fought  agin  the  Spanish  and  French  and  the 
Indians;  I  buckled  to  among  the  first  for  our  liberties,  I 
gave  a  hand  through  all  the  tug  of  the  War,  I  helped  build 
up  our  Constitution  and  Laws,  and  now  we  are  worse  off 
than  ever.  Woe  is  me  !  A  sorer  pest  than  any  before  has 
overtaken  us." 

Mr.  Adolphus  Hadlock.  "  What,  Uncle,  what,  the 
Small-pox  has  not  broke  out  anew?  Aristophanes,  my 
son—" 

Deacon  Hadlock.  "  No,  Adolphus,  worse  than  that ; 
worse  than  Throat  Distemper,  or  Putrid  Fever,  or  any 
thing  else.  Jacobins,  the  Jacobins  are  in  amongst  us  ;  all 
the  bloodhounds  of  the  French  kennel  are  let  loose  upon 
us,  Freethinkers,  Illuminatists,  Free  Masons,  Papists." 


100  MARGARET. 

Judge  Morgridge.  "  Don't  you  remember,  Deacon, 
when  the  news  of  Braddock's  Defea*t,  in  the  year  '55,  was 
brought  here,  what  an  alarm  we  had  ?  Every  man, 
woman  and  child,  ran  out  of  their  houses  to  learn  the  news  ; 
all  was  despair.  'The  country  is  betrayed  by  Govern 
ment.'  <  They  have  sold  us  to  the  French.'  <  They'll 
make  Catholics  of  us  all,'  were  cries  that  filled  the  streets  ; 
and  your  lather,  a  gray -headed  old  man,  and  our  good 
minister,  then  a  young  man,  spoke  to  the  people  from  the 
Meeting-house  steps,  and  told  them  not  to  be  afraid,  but  to 
put  their  trust  in  God.  We  recovered  from  our  reverses, 
and  have  passed  safely  through  a  good  many  difficulties 
since.  The  French  indeed  have  done  us  much  good,  and 
in  the  War  we  courted  their  alliance  and  were  glad  of  their 
aid." 

Deacon  Hadlock.  "  I  know  what  you  say,  Judge — I 
never  liked  the  French,  I  was  always  agin  that  contract. 
But  we  never  had  such  trying  times  as  these ;  so  many 
intarnal,  as  well  as  extarnal  foes  to  our  peace  and  pros 
perity.  Things  never  looked  nigh  so  dark." 

Mr.  W/iiston,  a  Breakneck.  "  I  agree  with  the  Dea 
con  exactly  ;  he  has  put  the  case  right  on  its  own  legs. 
For  one,  I  am  near  about  done  for.  I  havn't  hardly  a  hair 
left  to  my  hide  or  a  pewter  fip  in  my  pocket.  Taxes,  taxes 
are  eating  us  all  up  ;  taxes  upon  your  whole  estate ;  taxes 
on  all  you  eat  and  drink ;  taxes  paid  by  taxes,  taxes 
breeding  taxes  ;  and  when  all  is  gone,  then  tax  the  body 
and  lug  it  off  to  jail." 

Deacon  Ramsdill.  "  Misery  makes  us  unacquainted  with 
strange  bedfellows,  Judge." 

Judge  Morgridge.  "  You  see,  Deacon  Hadlock,  into  what 
company  you  fall ;  Mr.  Whiston  is  one  whom  I  believe  you 


•r 

THE    PEOPLE'  IX    COVJNC'IU  101 

committed  for  being  concerned  in  the  late  disturbances  in 
these  States." 

Deacon  Hadlock.  "Just  as  I  say,  Judge,  we  are  too 
lenient,  we  didn't  put  on  the  screws  half  hard  enough. 
The  Insargents  ought  to  have  been  hung,  or  banished  from 
the  country,  or  else  condemned  to  imprisonment  for  life. 
The  State  was  not  cleansed  of  the  plague  that  was  upon  it, 
and  the  sore  waxes  fouler  every  hour." 

Mr.  Whiston.  "  '  Tis  true  I  harbored  the  men  ;  'tis  true 
I  fell  in  with  the  movement ;  and  I  wish  to  Heaven  we 
could  have  a  rebellion — I  will  say  it  here  if  I  have  to  swing 
to-morrow  for  it.  I  wish  Shays  could  have  carried  the 
matter  through  all  the  States.  I  helped  throw  off  one 
government,  but  I  little  calculated  how  I  was  going  to  be 
sucked  in  by  another.  Courts,  lawyers,  sheriff  fees,  consta 
ble  fees,  justice  fees,  imposts,  stamp  duties,  continental  bills, 
paper  tender,  forced  sales,  have  swept  off  every  thing.  The 
grubs  of  the  law  have  gnawed  into  us,  and  we  are  all 
powder-post.  How  many  actions  did  you  try  in  one  term, 
Judge  ?  Was  it  less  than  a  thousand  ?  " 

Judge  Morgridge.  u  Let  that  go,  Mr.  Whiston ;  it  is 
past,  and  we  will  endeavor  to  forget  it." 

Mr.  Whiston.  "I  shan't  let  it  go,  it  an't  past,  and  it 
can't  be  forgotten.  Can  I  forget  the  cries  of  Ely  and  Rose, 
up  there  in  Lenox  ?  Not  so  easy.  We  fought  for  liberty 
in  the  War,  and  if  a  man  hasn't  liberty  to  own  his  own, 
to  use  his  own,  to  be  his  own,  what  are  our  liberties  good 
for?  Government  is  Lord  God  Almighty,  and  skin-flint 
besides*  Where  is  my  title  to  my  estate  ?  Government 
has  got  it.  Where  is  my  income  ?  Government  has  got 
it.  Where  is  the  disposal  of  my  person  ?  Government 
has  got  it.  Where  is  the  control  of  my  actions  ?  Govern 
ment  has  got  it.  Where  are  my  boys?  Gone  to  fight  the 
9* 


102;    j   ,;  '  l  J  i       \  M$RGA«RET. 

Government  battles  agin  the  Indians.  Where  are  my 
gals?  Spinning  out  Government  taxes.  What  is  the 
Government  for?  To  protect  me,  you  say;  yes,  as  the 
wolf  did  the  lamb,  by  stripping  me  of  all  I  have.  We  help 
make  the  Government  ?  No.  Didn't  we  petition  to  have 
the  Constitution  altered,  some  of  the  courts  abolished,  and 
the  under  officers  set  aside  ?  Were  our  petitions  granted  ? 
They  were  not  admitted ;  Government  spurned  us  and  our 
petitions  together.  Such  bungling  and  frippery  never  were 
seen.  I  wouldn't  give  a  fiddlestick's  end  for  all  the 
Constitutions  in  creation.  They  take  the  best  of  every  thing, 
and  leave  us  only  the  orts  and  hog-wash.  Times  are 
mopish  and  rmrly.  I  don't  mean  to  be  scrumptious  about 
it,  Judge,  but  I  do  want  to  be  a  man,  if  I  am  a  Breakneck, 
and  havn't  so  much  eddecation  as  the  rest." 

Judge  Morgridge.  "  It  is  getting  warm  here  ;  we  shall 
be  called  to  the  examination  soon,  and  we  need  all  calmness 
of  mind." 

Mr.  Whiston.  "  I  am  ready  to  stay  and  argufy  the  mat 
ter  out  with  any  body.  I  have  no  notion  of  hushing  it  up 
so." 

Dr.  Spoor.  "  More  parties  than  one  have  been  im 
plicated.  I  think  our  worthy  Deacon  named  the  Free 
Masons,  a  fraternity  to  which  I  deem  it  an  honor  to 
belong." 

Deacon  Hadlock.  "  Yes,  I  did  mention  them ;  they 
are  rising  in  France,  Germany  and  England ;  they  are 
leagued  with  the  Jacobins  on  both  sides  of  the  water,  and 
threaten  the  destruction  of  all  this  'varsal  world." 

Dr.  Spoor.  "  They  acknowledge  the  three  cardinal 
doctrines,  Faith,  Hope  and  Charity." 

Deacon  Hadlock.  "  I  know  it,  they  are  as  bad  as  the 
Socinians ;  under  cover  of  religion  they  would  destroy 


THE    PEOPLE    IN    COUNCIL.  103 

religion  itself.     Hasn't  Tom  Jefferson  threatened  he  would 

O 

burn  up  all  the  Bibles  in  the  land,  if  he  comes  in  President  ? 
Isn't  he  the  jawbone  of  Jacobinism  in  this  country? 
Havn't  town  meetings  been  called  agin  Jay's  Treaty  ? 
Hasn't  John  Jay  himself  been  burnt  in  eifigy?  Yes,  in 
Boston  he  was  carted  through  the  streets,  with  a  watermelon 
shell  on  his  head,  carried  past  Governor  Adams's  house, 
where  they  made  him  salute  the  old  man,  and  then  took 
and  burnt  on  the  Common.  Houses  were  broken  open, 
persons  assaulted.  What  is  all  this  but  playing  into  that 
whale's  hands,  Bonaparte,  who  means  to  swallow  us  all 
up?" 

Captain  Hoag.  "  These  things  are  jest  so.  We  heard 
in  our  part  of  the  town  last  week,  that  he  had  taken  the 
city  of  London,  and  was  burning  over  all  England ;  that 
he  had  made  the  Pope  God  of  the  whole  airth,  arid  that 
they  were  both  coming  to  America,  were  going  to  put  us 
all  into  the  Inquisition,  and  then  set  fire  to't." 

Deacon  Ramsdill.  "  You  eat  nothing  if  you  watch  the 
cook  ;  I  think  we  had  better  be  thankful  for  what  we  have, 
and  God  will  give  us  what  we  want." 

Mr.  Pottle,  from  Snakehill.  "  I  believe  the  Deacon  made 
a  fling  at  thef  Universalists  ?  " 

Deacon  Hadlock.  "They  are  the  Seed  of  the  old 
Sarpent ;  they  are  leagued  with  the  Devil  himself;  they 
talse  advantage  of  the  natural  heart  to  entrap  us  with  their 
soul-destroying  doctrines  ;  they  make  a  fling  at  the  righteous 
justice  of  God." 

Mr.  Pottle.  "  For  one  I  must  say,  my  eyes  have  been 
opened ;  I  an't  a  going  to  be  hoodwinked  any  longer.  I 
do  not  believe  God  is  a  wrathful  being,  I  do  not  believe  he 
will  keep  us  in  a  red-hot  Hell  to  all  Eternity  for  what  we 
do  in  this  short  life." 


104  MARGARET. 

Deacon  Hadlock.  "O!  0!  We  are  undone.  I  am 
the  man  that  has  seen  affliction." 

Mr.  Pottle.  "  I  believe  the  Atonement  is  broad  enough 
to  cover  the  whole  race." 

Parson  Welles.  "  God  be  praised,  his  decrees  shall 
stand  against  all  the  lying  deceit  of  man  !  " 

Esq.  Weeks.  "  We  do,  indeed,  seem  to  be  quite  in  a 
toss.  I  have  said  nothing  hitherto,  because  I  have  had  so 
many  other  things  to  think  about.  There  are  sometimes 
domestic  and  personal  calamities  which  seem  for  the 
moment  to  outweigh  all  public  concerns ;  and  how  many  in 
o  ir  midst  ;  re  even  now,  we  must  believe,  in  deepest 
affliction.  But  I  cannot  well  let  what  has  been  here  ex 
pressed  pass  without  at  least  offering  a  word  of  encourage 
ment  and  hope.  I  agree  with  Mr.  Whiston,  that  our 
Government  is  not  all  we  could  desire.  I  did  not  vote,  as 
you  well  know,  for  the  Constitutions  either  of  the  State  or 
the  Nation.  But  having  been  adopted  by  a  majority  of  the 
people,  I  am  willing  to  give  them  my  cordial  support.  / 
have  confidence  in  the  people ;  and  believe  that  they  will  right 
what  is  wrong,  and  better  what  is  bad.  I  concur  in  the 
old  maxim,  that  that  government  is  best  which  governs 
least,  and  I  think  the  evils  we  deplore  will  be  remedied  in 

time." 

Esq.  Bowker.  "  There  is  a  principle  of  health  in 
Time  itself,  agreeably  to  which  we  may  hope  that  the 
diseased  body  politic  will  ultimately  recover,  the  tumid 
aspect  of  societv  subside,  noxious  sentiment  be  thrown  off, 
and  the  clouded  atmosphere  of  our  public  life  clear  away." 

JEtq-  Beach.  "  There  are  some  gentlemen  who  have 
the  urbanity  of  the  original  Tempter  himself;  who  pur 
sue  by  indirection  what  they  dare  not  openly  propose, 
and  under  the  guise  of  flattery  harbor  the  deadliest  intent. 


THE    PEOPLE    IN    COUNCIL.  105 

Heavens !  has  it  come  to  this !  shall  drivelling  be  substituted 
for  sound  reason,  phrenzy  for  dispassionate  conduct !  O 
Humanity,  where  is  thy  blush  ?  O  Virtue,  where  hast 
thou  fled  ?  Was  is  not  the  firmness  of  President  Wash 
ington  in  resisting  the  overtures  of  the  French,  that  saved 
us  from  that  gulf?  Was  it  not  the  explosion  of  Randolph's 
connection  with  Fauchet  that  prevented  the  worst  of 
calamities  ?  Are  not  French  emissaries  scattered  through 
the  land,  corrupting  our  citizens,  and  disturbing  our 
politics  ?  Have  we  not  seen  the  Tricolored  Cockade,  that 
emblem  of  massacre  and  blood,  voting  at  our  polls  ?  Has 
not  France  twice  dismissed  our  envoys  with  ignominy? 
No  Festival  is  so  celebrated  in  this  country  as  the  Birth  of 
the  Dauphin  ;  yes,  we  revere  the  birth  of  a  Monarch  more 
than  the  virtues  of  Washington  !  You  cannot,  gentlemen, 
have  forgotten  the  refined  patriotism  of  one  our  Judges, 
who  recently  invested  the  city  of  Providence  with  a  regi 
ment  of  soldiers,  and  endeavored  to  arrest  the  celebration 
of  the  Anniversary  of  our  Independence,  and  prevent  the 
ratification  of  the  then  ninth  pillar  of  the  Federal  Constitu 
tion,  New  Hampshire.  The  Gazettes  of  that  clique  are 
distributed  with  a  diligence  worthy  a  better  cause.  Our 
own  mails,  yes,  to  my  shame  and  sorrow  I  repeat  it,  the  mails 
of  this  good  old  Federal  town  of  Livingston  are  loaded 
with  their  prints  ;  Chronicles,  Auroras  and  Arguses,  are 
circulated  in  our  midst,  through  which  the  great  monster 
of  evil  belches  forth  his  falsehoods,  seditions,  blasphemies 
and  calumnies  upon  our  population.  This  Anglophobism 
is  the  most  malignant  and  incurable  of  maladies." 

Esq.  Weeks.  "Yes,  enough  of  it  worse  than  Gallopho- 
bism.  We  have  no  dastardly  refugees  voting  at  our  polls 
— no.  Reams  of  Russell's  Gazettes,  Courants,  Centinels, 
Spys,  are  not  every  week  brought  to  our  village — no.  They 


/ 

106  MARGARET. 

are  full  of  truth,  religion,  candor,  sweetness — yes.  We 
have  no  readers  of  Porcupine's  Gazette,  a  writer  who  is  an 
avowed  British  subject — no.  The  Editor  of  the  Aurora 
was  not  recently  whipped  in  the  streets — no.  How  many 
Black  Cockades  could  I  count  in  this  room?  But,  soberly, 
Sam  Adams's  threadbare  coat  must  give  place  to  John  Han 
cock's  lace  and  ruffles.  Our  ladies  must  have  negroes  to  bear 
their  trains  through  the  streets  as  their  mothers  did.  Capt. 
Hoag  here  would  have  us  kneel  to  his  Spread  Eagle  and 
Blue  Ribbon,  and  we  must  barter  our  old-fashioned  pewter 
for  Cincinnati  plates,  and  cups  and  saucers.  "We  must  import 
mustard,  muffs,  tippets  and  Flanders  lace.  We  must  bap 
tize  all  things  into  the  mild  spirit  of  Federalism  ;  we  have 
a  Federal  Congress,  Federal  Gazettes,  Federal  Hotels, 
Federal  Theatres,  Federal  Circuses,  Federal  Streets,  Fed 
eral  Warehouses,  Federal  Flour,  Federal  Babies  ;  we  have 
long  had  a  Federal  Gospel — no  offence  to  our  good  minis 
ter — and  must  look  for  a  Federal  Heaven." 

Esq.  Beach.  "I  shall  make  no  reply  to  matters  like 
these  I  know  we  are  somewhat  diverted  from  the  objects 
that  brought  us  here.  But  one  thing  I  would  have  im 
pressed  on  all  minds  ;  there  are  three  political  sects  in  the 
United  States.  The  first  in  number  as  well  as  in  sense, 
without  umbrage  to  Brother  Weeks,  are  the  Federalists, 
who  believe  mankind  are  in  need  of  the  restraints  of  good 
government.  The  second  are  the  Jacobins,  who  see  in 
every  bock  of  acts  and  resolves,  gibbets,  pillories  and  jails. 
But  there  is  a  third  sect,  who  are  less  despised  and  yet 
are  more  contemptible,  the  Illuminatists.  These  will  have 
it  that  government  is  unnecessary.  They  want  common 
sense  to  such  a  degree,  that  they  do  not  know  their  want  of 
it.  They  are  underworkers  to  the  Jacobinical  purpose  of 
power,  plunder  and  vengeance." 


THE  PEOPLE  IN  COUNCIL.  107 

Abel  Wilcox.  "  'Lexis  Robinson  is  here  again  with  his 
notes,  sir." 

Deacon  Penrose.  "  I  dare  say.  He  is  punctual  to  a 
day.  He  holds  some  of  the  consolidated  notes  and  Quarter 
master  General's  certificates,  and  comes  every  year  to  dis 
pose  of  them.  I  offered  him  eight  and  sixpence  on  the 
pound  ;  then  as  they  depreciated,  four  shillings,  and  at  last, 
when  they  were  good  for  nothing,  in  pure  compassion,  I 
told  him  I  would  give  one  and  six  ;  but  he  wouldn't  be 
easy  without  the  full  face.  He  might  have  taken  advan 
tage  of  the  funding." 

Mr.  Whiston.  "  That  is  what  we  tried  to  bring  about,  a 
means  to  pay  the  old  soldiers  ;  but  we  could  not  do  it. 
Poor  'Lex,  his  face  half  gone,  his  wits  nigher  done  for,  his 
old  sores  still  running — well  if  the  country  for  which  he 
fought  can  give  him  sward  enough  to  cover  his  bones ! " 

Deacon  RamsdiU.  "  He  that  lives  upon  hope  will  die 
fasting,  as  poor  Richard  says  ;  if  this  belongs  to  'Lexis  I 
guess  it  will  apply  to  some  other  folks.  What  is  the  hour, 
Judge?" 

Judge  Morgridge,  "  I  think  we  had  better  give  attention 
to  the  prisoners.  The  warrant  was  issued  from  your  office, 
Squire  Beach,  I  believe  ;  shall  we  not  adjourn  there  ?" 

Parson  Welles.     «  God  send  the  right." 


108  MARGARET. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

THE    TRIAL. 

THE  magistral  investigation  resulted  in  the  discharge  of 
all  the  family  but  Chilion,  who  was  conlmitted  to  answer 
before  the  Supreme  Court — a  stated  session  of  which  was 
at  hand.  The  testimony  of  the  witnesses  was  varied  and 
confused,  as  their  observation  had  been  uncertain  and  indis 
tinct.  What  with  the  trepidation  of  the  moment,  and  the 
clouded  condition  in  which  the  catastrophe  found  the  party, 
it  took  no  small  sagacity  and  patience  in  Esq.  Beach,  who 
seemed  disposed  to  conduct  the  case  with  entire  candor,  to 
distinguish,  resolve,  and  average  the  singular  materials  that 
were  submitted  to  his  attention.  Chilion  himself  would 
make  neither  confession  nor  denial. 

These  points,  however,  were  ascertained :  that  Solomon 
Smith  came  to  his  death  by  a  wound  in  the  jugular  vein  ; 
that  the  wound  was  caused  by  some  violent  blow,  as,  say,  of 
a  file  ;  that  Chilion  was  seen  to  throw  the  file,  and  the  de 
ceased  was  heard  to  cry  out  the  moment  the  instrument 
might  have  been  supposed  to  strike  him.  Furthermore, 
it  was  sworn  that  Chilion  and  the  deceased  had  had  differ 
ences,  and  that  Chilion  had  threatened  vengeance  for  the 
mischief  Solomon  was  doing  to  the  family  at  the  Pond. 

The  deceased  was  buried  the  next  day,  and  at  his  funeral 
was  exhibited  every  circumstance  of  solemn  array  and 
mournful  impressiveness.  The  body  was  carried  to  the 
Church,  where  Parson  Welles  preached  an  appropriate 


THE    TRIAL.  109 

sermon,  and  followed  to  the  grave  by  a  long  train  of  people 
swayed  by  alternate  and  mingled  grief  and  indignation. 

On  the  succeeding  day,  Mr.  Smith,  the  father  of  Solomon, 
came  to  the  Pond  claiming  the  forfeiture  of  the  conditions 
on  which  Pluck  held  the  estate,  and  ordered  the  immediate 
removal  of  the  family.  Pluck  went  off  with  his  kit  on  his 
back  to  seek  employment  wherever  it  should  offer.  Hash 
and  his  mother  were  invited  to  Sibyl  Radney's.  Of  Nimrod 
and  Rose  nothing  had  been  heard.  Bull  followed  Hash. 
Margaret  barely  had  time  to  turn  her  two  birds  and  Dick, 
the  squirrel,  out  of  doors,  and  gather  a  bundle  of  clothes 
and  Chilion's  violin,  ere  Mr.  Smith  nailed  up  the  house. 
She  besought  her  mother  and  Hash  to  take  the  birds  and 
squirrel,  but  the  hurry,  preoccupation  and  irritation  of  the 
moment  were  too  great  to  pamper  wishes  of  that  sort. 
Up  the  Via  Salutaris  she  saw  her  father  and  mother, 
her  brother  and  Sibyl  filing  along,  drearily,  with  heavy 
packs  on  their  shoulders.  Her  own  course  had  baen 
resolved  upon;  she  was  going  to  Esq.  Beach's  to  seek 
occupation,  be  near  Chilion,  and  fulfil  her  engagement 
as  Governess.  She  paused  a  moment,  looking  up  and  down 
the  road,  and  back  to  Mons  Christi,  then  striking  across  the 
Mowing,  buried  herself  in  the  thickets  of  the  Via  Dolorosa. 
Reaching  the  Village,  she  turned  into  Grove  Street,  and 
went  directly  to  the  Squire's.  Mrs.  Beach  received  her  at 
the  door,  and  asked  her  into  the  parlor.  She  was  barely 
seated,  when  the  door  opened,  and  in  poured  a  parcel  of 
children. 

"  Julia,  William,"  said  Mrs.  Beach,  "  why  do  you  behave 
so  ?  How  often  have  I  told  you  nqt  to  cqme  into  the 
house  with  a  noise  ?  and  those  other  t»oys  havn't  scraped 
their  feet." 

VOL.  II.  0 


110  MARGARET. 

"I  have  got  a  tame  squirrel  here,  Ma,"  said  William 
Beach. 

<f  What  are  you  doing  with  that  dirty  thing  ?  "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Beach. 

"  It's  the  Ma'am's,"  said  Julia  Beach  ;  "  Arthur  said  it 
was." 

"  We  found  it  trying  to  get  in  at  the  door,"  explained 
Arthur  Morgridge. 

"  She  isn't  your  Ma'am,  now,"  denied  Mrs.  Beach. 

"  Isn't  she  going  to  live  here,  and  teach  us  ? "  asked 
Julia. 

"  Not  as  we  know  of,"  replied  the  mother.  "  You  take 
away  the  squirrel,  and  run  to  your  plays." 

Dick,  meanwhile,  wrested  himself  from  the  hands  of  the 
boys  and  leaped  into  the  lap  of  his  mistress. 

"  Take  the  creature  away,"  reiterated  Mrs.  Beach. 

Margaret  interceded  in  behalf  of  her  pet.  "  I  shan't  touch 
it,  if  the  Ma'am  wants  to  keep  it,"  said  Consider  Gis- 
borne.  "  Come,  let  us  see  if  we  can't  get  the  kite  up." 

The  children  retreated  with  as  much  impetuosity  as  they 
entered. 

"  Did  you  expect  to  bring  that  animal  with  you  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Beach. 

"  I  know  not  how  he  came,"  replied  Margaret ;  "I  left 
him  at  home  ; "  and  she  might  have  added,  that  delaying 
on  her  steps  two  or  three  hours  in  the  woods,  the  squirrel, 
shut  out  of  doors,  and  growing  tired  of  silence  and  solitude, 
concluded  to  follow  her, — a  trick  he  had  more  than  once  in 
his  life  attempted. 

"  What  have  you  in  that  green  sack  ? "  inquired  the 
lady. 

"  It  is  my  brother  Chilion's  fiddle,"  replied  Margaret ; 


THE   TRIAL.  Ill 

<f  I  thought  it  would  be  of  some  comfort  to  him  in  the  jail, 
so  I  brought  it  down." 

"Your  brother,  indeed!"  rejoined  Mrs.  Beach.  "I 
must  inform  you  that  the  Squire  and  myself  have  concluded 
to  dispense  with  your  services.  We  thought  it  would  be 
extremely  bad  to  have  one  of  your  family  a  member  of 
ours.  Since  the  dreadful  things  that  have  happened  at 
your  house,  it  would  be  unsafe  to  our  property,  and  perhaps 
to  our  lives,  and  certainly  detrimental  to  the  morals  of  the 
children,  to  have  any  thing  to  do  with  you.  And  it  would 
be  wrong  not  to  break  a  promise  made  with  those  who  have 
proved  themselves  unworthy  to  keep  it." 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  asked  Margaret,  passionately. 

"  It  is  no  use  to  practise  dissimulation,  Miss  Hart.  A 
sorry  crew  of  you  !  I  quite  wonder  that  you  should  have 
had  the  presumption  to  come  at  all.  We  were  going  to 
send  word  that  we  did  not  want  you.  But  your  anxiety 
for  your  brother,  it  seems,  has  brought  you  down  even 
sooner  than  was  anticipated.  If  worse  comes  to  worst,  you 
can  go  to  the  poorhouse ;  you  may  be  able  to  find  employ 
ment  with  that  class  of  people  to  whom  you  properly  be 
long,  lam  not  unreasonable — for  the  time  has  arrived  we 
must  no  longer  tamper  with  low-bred  and  mischief-making 
characters." 

The  appearance  of  the  lady  discouraged  parley  and  si 
lenced  protestation,  and  Margaret  withdrew.  She  stood  on 
the  doorsteps,  with  her  bundle  and  squirrel  in  her  arms* 
disordered  in  purpose,  palsied  in  feeling,  and  almost  blind 
in  vision,  from  this  unforeseen  turn  of  affairs.  The  chil 
dren,  who  were  trying  to- fly  a  kite  on  the  grounds  in  front 
of  the  house,  came  around  her. 

"  Are  you  not  going  to  stay  ?  "  asked  Julia  Beach. 

"  No,"  replied  Margaret. 


112  MARGARET. 

"Won't  the  Ma'am  help  us  get  up  the  kite  ?"  said  Con 
sider  Gisborne. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Margaret. 

"  The  string  is  all  in  a  snarl,"  said  Arthur  Morgridge. 
Margaret,  most  mechanically,  most  mournfully,  fell  to  get 
ting  out  the  knot,  and  then  dropping  her  luggage,  ran  with 
the  string,  and  when  the  kite  was  fairly  afloat,  she  handed 
it  back  to  the  boys. 

"  She's  crying,"  said  Julia  Beach.  "  She  is  crying  !  " 
was  whispered  from  one  to  another.  The  kite  was  at  once 
abandoned,  and  the  children  huddled  about  their  disconso- 
Jate  Mistress. 

"  What  makes  you  cry  ?  "  said  Julia. 
"  I  cannot  tell,"  said  Margaret ;  "  I  have  no  home,  no 
friends,  no  place  to  go  to." 

"  Never  mind  the  kite,"  said  Consider.  "  I'll  carry  this," 
he  added,  seizing  the  sack  containing  the  violin ;  "  I  don't 
care  if  she  did  put  me  on  the  girl's  side,  she  is  the  best 
Schoolma'am  I  ever  went  to/' 

"I  will  carry  this,"  said  Arthur,  taking  the  clothes  bun 
dle  from  her  hand. 

"  I  want  to  have  the  squirrel,"  said  Julia. 
"Let  me   take   hold    with   you,   Arthur,"   said   Mabel 
Weeks. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  asked  Margaret. 
"I  don't  know,"  said  Consider  ;  "  we  wanted  to  help  the 
Schoolma'am." 

"  I  am  going  to  take  the  violin  to  my  brother,  who  is  in 
the  jail ;  he  loves  to  play  on  it.  Perhaps  you  wouldn't 
like  to  go  there." 

"  Deacon  Ramsdill  was  at  our  house,  and  said  he  didn't 
believe  he  meant  to  kill  Solomon  Smith,"  said  Consider. 


THiS    TRIAL.  113 

"  I  remember  what  you  said  when  you  kept  the  scho  ol 
that  we  musn't  hate  any  body,"  said  Arthur. 

"  Ma  said  people  wasn't  always  wicked  that  was  put  in 
jail,"  said  Mabel. 

Preceded  by  the  children  with  their  several  loads,  Mar 
garet  went  towards  the  Green.  Approaching  the  precincts 
of  the  jail  she  found  her  way  impeded  by  large  numbers  of 
people,  who  were  loitering  about  the  spot,  of  all  ages  and 
sexes.  She  was  greeted  with  sundry  exclamations  of  dis 
like,  and  the  aspect  of  tilings  was  not  the  most  inviting. 
Even  threatening  words  were  bestowed  upon  her,  and  some 
went  so  far  as  to  jostle  her  steps.  She  stopped  while  the 
children  gathered  closer  to  her,  and  they  all  proceeded  in 
a  solid  body  together. 

"  I  can  see  the  devil  in  her  eye,"  said  one.  "  The 
whole  family  ought  to  be  hung,"  said  another.  "Poor 
Mr.  Smith's  heart  is  most  broke,"  said  Mistress  Joy. 
"  I  always  knew  Chil  would  come  to  a  bad  end,"  said 
Mistress  Hatch  ;  "  there  were  spots  on  his  back  when 
he  was  born,  and  his  mother  cut  his  finger  nails  be 
fore  he  was  a  month  old."  "  There  was  a  looking-glass 
broke  at  our  house,  the  week  before,"  said  Mistress  Tuck. 
"  I  had  a  curious  itching  in  my  left  eye,"  said  Mistress 
Tapley,  "  and  our  Dorothy  dropped  three  drops  of  blood 
from  her  nose."  "  There  was  a  great  noise  of  drums  and 
rattling  of  arms  in  the  air,  just  before  the  Spanish  war 
broke  out,"  said  old  Mr.  Ravel.  "  The  Saco  River  run 
blood  when  the  last  war  begun,"  said  Captain  Hoag ;  "  I 
was  down  in  the  Province  and  saw  it."  "  He  beat  his  head 
all  to  smash  with  a  froe,"  said  one  boy.  "  They  are  the 
most  dangerous  wretches  that  ever  walked  God's  earth," 
said  Mr.  Cutts. 

Coming  to  the  porch  of  the  jail-house,  Margaret  took  the 
10* 


114  MARGARET. 

baggage  into  her  own  hands,  dismissed  her  guard,  an1 
sought  of  Mr.  Shocks  admission  to  Chilion's  cell.  The 
reply  of  that  gentleman  was  brief  and  explicit.  "  Troop  ! 
gump,"  said  he,  "  don't  hang  sogering  about  here,  you 
saucebox.  Haven't  you  smelt  of  these  premises  enough  ? 
It  will  be  your  turn  next.  Pack  and  be  off."  She  turned 
from  the  door.  A  hundred  people  stood  before  her ;  she 
encountered  the  gaze  of  a  hundred  pairs  of  eyes,  dark  and 
frowning  ;  Mr.  Shocks,  by  the  application  of  his  hand  to 
her  shoulder,  helped  her  from  the  steps  to  the  ground, 
where  she  seemed  almost  to  lose  the  power  of  motion. 
<'  What  do  you  ax  for  that  are  beast  ?  "  inquired  one. 
"  That's  ChiPs  fiddle  she's  got  there  in  that  bag,"  said  Ze- 
nas  Joy.  "  That'll  help  pay  for  what  the  dum  Injins  owe 
daddy,"  said  Seth  Penrose.  "  Come,  you  may  as  well  give 
it  up." 

"  You  shan't  touch  it,"  outspoke  Judah  Weeks.  "  I'll 
stand  here,  and  if  any  body  wants  to  put  his  tricks  on  her, 
he'll  have  to  play  rough  and  tumble  with  me  a  while  first. 
She  ain't  to  blame  for  what  her  brother  did."  While  he 
was  speaking,  Sibyl  Radney,  stout  as  an  Amazon,  brawny 
as  Vulcan,  elbowed  herself  into  the  midst,  and  seizing  the 
bundle  under  one  arm  and  Margaret  under  the  other,  bore 
her  off  through  the  crowd.  Sundry  boys  still  saw  fit  to 
follow,  who  again  closed  about  Sibyl  when  she  stopped 
with  her  load.  "  There  is  Deacon  Ramsdill,"  shouted  one. 
"  We'll  have  some  fun  out  of  him  if  we  can't  out  of  the  In- 
jin,"  cried  another. 

"Well,  my  lads,"  said  the  Deacon,  limping  in  among 
them  with  his  insenescible  smile,  "  what  have  we  here  ? 
You  must  truss  up  a  cow's  tail  if  you  don't  want  to  be 
switched  when  you're  milking;  if  there  is  any  mischief  here 
we  must  attend  to  it.  Come,  Molly,  you  must  go  with  me. 


THE    TRIAL.  115 

Out  of  the  way,  children  ;  a  cat  may  look  upon  a  king ;  j 
guess  you  will  let  a  squirrel  look  at  you. — There,  Molly," 
continued  the  Deacon,  leading  her  across  the  Green  into 
the  East  Street,  "we  have  got  through  the  worst  of  it,  and 
we  praise  a  bridge  that  carries  us  safe,  even  if  it  is  a  poor 
one." 

"  I  thank  you,  Sir,  I  thank  you,"  said  Margaret ;  "  but, 
O,  let  me  die,  let  the  boys  kill  me." 

"  Dogs  that  bark  arter  a  wagon,"  replied  the  Deacon, 
"  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  whip;  I  guess  the  boys  wouldn't 
hurt  you  much.  The  people  are  a  good  deal  up,  and  when 
the  grain  is  weedy  we  must  reap  high,  we  must  do  the  best 
we  can.  I  have  seen  Judge  Morgridge,  and  he  thinks  you 
will  be  safest  at  my  house  ;  Squire  Beach  says  he  can't 
employ  you,  and  I  think  you  had  better  go  home  with  me. 
The  Judge  says  his  Susan  wants  to  see  you,  and  it  wouldn't 
be  best  for  you  to  go  to  his  house  now,  because  he  is  Judge. 
Freelove  will  be  glad  to  see  you.  When  you  was  at  our 
house  before,  you  was  gone  so  much  you  didn't  hardly  give 
her  a  taste." 

"  There  is  nothing  left  to  me,"  said  Margaret ;  "  I  am 
blank  despair." 

"  The  finer  the  curd  the  better  the  cheese,"  replied  the 
Deacon.  "  They  are  cutting  you  up  considerably  smart, 
but  it  may  be  as  well  in  the  end.  What  you  are  going 
through  is  nothing  to  what  I  saw  down  to  Arcady,  when 
we  went  to  bring  off  the  French  under  Col.  Winslow.  We 
dragged  them  out  of  their  houses,  tore  children  from  their 
mothers,  wives  from  their  husbands,  and  piled  them  helter- 
skelter  in  the  boats.  Then  we  set  fire  to  every  thing  that 
would  kindle  ;  burnt  up  houses,  barns,  crops,  meeting 
houses.  They  stuck  to  their  old  homes  like  good  fellows. 
One  boy  we  saw  running  off  with  his  mother  on  his  back, 


116  MARGARET. 

into  the  woods,  and  we  had  to  bring  him  down  with  a  bul 
let  before  he  would  stop.  We  took  off  nigh  eighteen  thou 
sand  of  them.  When  we  weighed  anchor,  their  homes  were 
in  ashes,  their  woods  all  a-fire,  and  the  black  smoke  hung 
over  the  whole  so  funeral-like — they  set  up  such  a  dismal 
yell  as  if  the  whole  airth  was  going  to  a  butchery — yours 
an't  a  feather  to  it,  Molly." 

"  How  could  you  do  such  things  !  "  exclaimed  Margaret. 

"  O,  they  was  Papists  ai.d  French.  It  was  political,  I 
believe  ;  I  don't  know  much  about  it.  Here  is  our  house, 
and  the  fifty  acres  of  land  I  got  for  that  job.  It  has  lain 
powerful  hard  on  rny  conscience  ;  I  have  struggled  agin  it. 
— I  don't  know  as  I  should  ever  have  got  the  better  of  it, 
if  the  Lord  hadn't  a  come  and  forgiven  me." 

"  Freelove,"  he  said,  as  he  entered  his  house,  "  I  have 
found  the  gal.  She  will  pine  away  like  a  sick  sheep  if  we 
don't  nuss  and  cosset  her  up  a  little." 

The  Deacon's,  to  which  Margaret  was  not  altogether  a 
stranger,  was  a  small,  one-story,  brown  house,  having  a 
garden  on  one  side,  a  grass  lot  on  the  other,  and  a  cornfield 
in  the  rear.  Over  the  front  door  trailed  a  luxuriant  wood 
bine,  now  dyed  by  the  frosts  into  a  dark  claret.  What  with 
the  grant  of  land,  a  small  pension  continued  until  the  Rev 
olution,  the  Deacon,  manure  his  lameness,  had  secured  a 
comfortable  livelihood  for  himself  and  wife,  which  was  the 
extent  of  his  family.  The  usual  garnish  of  pewter  appeared 
in  one  corner  of  the  room  into  which  Margaret  was  led  ;  in 
the  other  stood  a  circular  snap-table  ;  between  the  two  hung 
a  black-framed  looking-glass  supported  on  brass  knobs, 
blazoned  with  miniature  portraits ;  underneath  the  glass 
was  a  japanned  comb-case,  and  a  cushion  bristling  with  pins 
and  needles.  On  one  wall  ticked  a  clock  without  a  case,  its 
weights  dangling  to  the  floor.  Against  the  opposite  wall 


THE    TRIAL.  117 

was  a  turn-up  bed ;  over  the  fireplace  were  pipes  suspend 
ed  by  their  throats,  and  iron  candlesticks  hanging  by  their 
ears.  There  was  a  settle  in  the  room,  an  oval-back  arm-chair 
which  the  Deacon  occupied,  while  his  wife,  in  mob-cap  and 
iron-rimmed  bridge  spectacles,  sat  knitting  in  a  low  flag- 
bottomed  chair  by  the  chimney  corner.  The  Deacon  brought 
from  the  parlor,  or  rather  spare  bedroom,  a  stuffed  easy- 
chair  that  he  gave  to  Margaret.  For  dinner,  Mistress 
Ramsdill  prepared  tea  for  their  sorrowful  visitor,  which  she 
poured  from  a  small,  bluish,  gold-flowered,  swan-shaped 
china  pot,  into  cups  of  similar  material,  and  the  Deacon 
roasted  her  apples  with  his  own  hands,  both  insisting  that 
she  should  eat  something,  to  which  she  seemed  in  no  way 
inclined. 

"  Why  do  you  treat  me  so  much  more  kindly  than  other 
people?"  said  Margaret,  resuming  her  seat  by  the  fire. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  Deacon,  "  except  it's  nater. 
By  the  grace  of  God  I  yielded  to  nater.  I  fought  agin  it 
till  I  was  past  forty  ;  when  what  Christ  says  in  what  they 
call  his  Sarmon  on  the  Mount,  and  a  colt,  brought  me  to- 
I  will  tell  you  about  the  colt.  Mr.  Stillwater,  at  the  Crown 
and  Bowl,  had  one,  and  he  wouldn't  budge  an  inch  ;  and 
they  banged  him,  and  barnacled  him,  and  starved  him,  and 
the  more  they  did,  the  more  he  wouldn't  stir,  only  bob,  and 
fling,  and  snort.  He  was  an  ear-brisk  and  high-necked 
critter,  out  of  Old  Delancy.  It  kinder  seemed  to  me  that 
something  could  be  done,  and  they  let  me  take  the  colt.  I 
kept  him  here  in  the  mow  lot,  made  considerable  of  him, 
groomed  him,  stroked  him,  and  at  last  I  got  him  so  he 
would  round  and  caracol,  and  follow  me  like  a  spoon-fed 
lamb;  he  was  as  handy  as  the  Judge's  bayard;  just  like 
your  squirrel  there,  he  is  docile  as  a  kitten.  I  had  this  na 
ter,  when  I  was  arter  the  Hurons  under  General  Webb 


118 


MARGARET. 


and  it  shook  my  firelock  so  when  I  was  pulling  the  trigger 
upon  a  sleeping  redskin,  I  let  him  go.  And  when  we  were 
in  the  ships  coming  away  from  Arcady,  it  made  me  give  up 
my  bed  to  a  sick  French  gal,  about  as  old  as  you,  Molly, 
and  nigh  as  well-favored  ;  yes,  it  made  me  take  her  up  in 
my  arms,  rough,  soldier-like  as  I  was,  and  lay  her  down  in 
my  hammock,  and  she  thanked  me  so  with  her  eyes ;  she 
couldn't  speak  English — " 

"  What  became  of  her  ?  " 

"  She  had  a  lover,  I  believe,  in  the  other  vessel,  and 
when  we  got  to  the  Bay,  it  wasn't  political  to  have  them 
put  in  one  place  ;  he  was  sent  away,  and  they  put  her  in  a 
poorhouse,  where  she  fell  off  in  a  decline.  One  of  them 
old  French  priests  that  1  helped  tear  away  from  the  blaz 
ing  altar  of  his  church,  used  to  come  round  hereabouts  ped 
dling  wooden  spoons,  and  I  declare,  it  made  the  tears  jump 
in  these  eyes  to  see  him,  and  nater  got  the  upper  hands ; 
so  I  gave  him  lodgings  a  whole  month.  I  fought  agin  nater, 
I  tell  you,  and  a  tough  spell  I  had  of  it.  I  read  in  the 
good  book  what  Christ  said  about  the  blessed  ones,  and  it 
wan't  me,  and  Freelove  said  it  wan't  her,  It  went  through 
us  like  a  bagonet.  I  was  struck  under  the  conviction  here 
alone  one  night,  when  our  little  Jessie  lay  in  the  crib  there 
by  the  fire.  I  looked  into  her  sweet  white  face  as  she  was 
asleep,  and  knew  Christ  would  have  blessed  her,  and  that 
she  belonged  to  the  kingdom,  and  it  all  came  over  me  how 
I  had  slided  off  from  what  I  was  when  Iwas  a  boy,  and  that 
I  had  been  abusing  nater  all  my  life.  When  Freelove  came 
in  I  told  her,  and  she  said  she  felt  just  so  too.  I  tried  to 
pray,  but  nater  stood  right  up  before  me,  and  prayed  louder 
than  I  did,  and  I  couldn't  be  heard.  The  arrows  of  the 
Almighty  stuck  fast  in  me.  We  lay  one  night  on  the  floor, 
fighting,  sweating,  groaning.  We  were  not  quite  ready  to 


THE    TRIAL.  119 

give  in.  We  tried  to  brace  up  on  the  notions  and  politicals, 
but  nater  kept  knocking  them  down.  Then  the  colt  came, 
tl\en  I  saw  it  in  old  brindle,  our  cow,  and  then  I  saw  it  in 
the  sheep,  then  I  remembered  the  French  gal  and  the  In 
dian  ;  and  at  last  we  gave  in,  and  it  was  all  as  plain  as  a  pipe- 
stern.  When  I  went  out  in  the  morning,  I  saw  it  in  the 
hens  and  chickens,  the  calves,  the  bees,  in  the  rocks,  and  in 
all  Creation.  There  is  nater  in  every  body,  only  if  it  was 
not  for  their  notions  and  politicals.  The  Papists,  the  Ne 
groes,  and  the  Indians  have  it.  Like  father  like  child.' — I 
believe  we  all  have  the  same  nater.  I  have  heard  Freelove's 
grandfather  tell — his  father  told  him,  he  was  cousin  of 
Captain  Church,  and  sarved  in  the  expedition — how,  when 
they  went  out  after  the  Pequods,  and  had  killed  the  men,  and 
burned  the  women  and  boys  and  gals  in  their  wigwams, 
they  found  one  woman  who  had  covered  her  baby  with  the 
mats  and  skins,  and  then  spread  herself  over  to  keep  off  the 
blazing  barks  and  boughs  ;  and  when  they  raked  open  the 
brands,  there  was  the  roasted  body  of  the  woman,  and  un 
der  her  the  little  innocent  all  alive,  and  it  stretched  up  its 
baby  hands — but  the  soldiers  clubbed  their  firelocks — " 

"  0,  these  are  dreadful  stories ;  I  cannot  bear  them 
now." 

"  There  is  nater  agin,  Freelove,  just  as  we  always  told 
one  another.  What  is  bred  in  the  bone  will  never  be  out 
of  the  flesh  ;  it  is  only  kicking  agin  the  pricks,  wrastle 
with  it  as  hard  as  you  will " 

"  I  can  never  think  of  myself  again,"  said  Margaret ; 
"  but  my  poor  brother  and  Mr.  Smith's  family — •" 

"I  stuttered  up  to  No.  4  yesterday  arter  the  funeral,  but 
they  are  so  grown  over  with  rum  there,  you  can  hardly  tell 
what  is  nater,  and  what  is  not.  I  read  out  of  the  Bible  to 
Mr.  Smith's  folk,  and  tried  to  pray  with  them,  but  they 


120  MARGARET. 

couldn't  bear  it.  That  agin  is  part  rum  and  part  nater. 
You  know,  Freelove,  how  we  felt  when  our  Jessie  died,  we 
didn't  want  to  see  any  one  ;  all  their  words  couldn't  put 
life  into  her  sweet  dead  body.  I  would  have  gone  up  to  see 
you  at  the  Pond,  but  I  can't  get  round  as  I  used  to  before 
I  was  hamstrung  on  the  Plains  of  Abr'am  under  General 
Wolfe.  It's  dreadful  business,  this  killing  people,  it's  agin 
nater  ;  I  followed  it  up  a  purpose,  and  have  killed  a  good 
many  in  my  day.  Christ  have  marcy  !  If  I  had  my 
desarts,  I  should  have  been  hung  long  ago.  Rum,  too,  is 
dreadful  business,  Molly  ;  and  I  guess  it  had  a  good  deal 
to  do  with  that  matter  up  to  your  house." 

The  Deacon  was  a  great  talker,  and  in  modern 
parlance  might  have  proved  a  bore,  if  his  wife  had  not 
jogged  him  and  said,  "  The  gal  has  not  had  any  sleep  for 
three  nights,  and  I  guess  she  had  better  try  and  see  if  she 
cant  get  some."  The  bed  was  lowered,  and  Margaret  laid 
upon  it,  where  she  was  quiet,  if  she  did  not  sleep,  most  of 
the  afternoon.  In  the  evening,  Susan  Morgridge  came  to 
see  her.  Susan's  manner  was  calm,  but  her  heart  was 
warm  and  her  sentiments  generous.  She  told  Margaret 
that  nothing  had  been  heard  from  Mr.  Evelyn  since  his 
departure  for  Europe,  and  that  Isabel  Weeks  was  still  at 
the  Hospital  slowly  recovering  from  a  long  fever  that  had 
succeeded  the  Small-pox.  But  the  absorbing  topic  was 
Chilion  and  the  death  of  young  Smith.  Susan  told  Mar 
garet  there  were  some  who  would,  do  all  that  could  be  done 
in  the  case,  but  that  her  father  apprehended  her  brother 
could  not  be  saved  from  the  extremest  penalty  of  the  law. 
Margaret  replied  that  the  whole  affair  was  to  her  own  mind 
enveloped  in  mystery,  that  Chilion  would  reveal  nothing  to 
her,  and  that  she  had  hardly  equanimity  enough  to  give 
the  subject  any  cool  reflection.  Finally,  for  this  seemed 


THE     TRIAL.  121 

to  be  a  part  of  her  errand,  Miss  Morgridge  proposed  that 
Margaret  should  see  Esq.  Bowker,  who  she  said  was  a 
valued  friend  of  hers,  and  that  he  would  be  happy  to  do 
her  any  service  in  his  power  in  the  approaching  crisis, 
and  that  gratuitously. 

The  moment  the  nine  o'clock  bell  spent  its  last  note, 
Deacon  Ramsdill  spread  open  a  large  book  on  his  lap,  put 
glasses  on  his  nose,  while  his  wife  deliberately  pulled  off 
her  glasses,  drew  out  her  needle  from  the  sheath  and  laid 
her  knitting  carefully  aside.  "  I  have  got  the  Bible  here," 
said  the  Deacon,  "  and  we  want  to  pray — that  is,  if  you 
can  stand  it.  When  you  was  here  in  the  summer,  you 
staid  out  so  much  we  couldn't  bring  it  about.  I  saw  you 
once  laughing  at  what  was  in  the  Book,  and  I  took  it  away, 
because  I  knew  you  wasn't  prepared  for  it,  and  hadn't  got 
hold  of  the  right  end.  Freelove  and  I  have  talked  this 
matter  over ;  and  we  know  how  it  is  with  you  ;  we  know 
how  you  feel  about  these  things  up  to  the  Pond.  A  hen 
frightened  from  her  nest  is  hard  to  get  back,  and  you  was 
handled  pretty  roughly  down  here  to  meeting  once.  We 
musn't  give  a  babe  strong  meat,  the  Book  says,  and  nater 
says  so  too ;  and  folks  that  tend  babies  musn't  have  pins 
about  them.  Then  agin  you  can't  wean  babies  in  a  day  ; 
it  takes  some  time  to  get  them  from  milk  to  meat.  Pray 
ing,  arter  all,  isn't  a  hard  thing  ;  its  nater.  I  used  to  pray 
when  I  was  a  boy,  but  I  left  it  off  in  the  Wars,  and  didn't 
begin  agin  till  nater  got  the  upper  hands  once  more.  I 
have  seen  the  Indians  pray  up  among  the  Hurons,  and 
they  couldn't  speak  a  word  of  English.  It  is  speaking  out 
what  is  inside  here,  it  is  sort  o*  feeling  up.  It  conies  easier 
as  you  go  along,  just  as  it  is  with  the  cows,  the  more  they 
are  milked  the  more  they  give.  I  hope,  Molly,  you  won't 
feel  bad  about  it.  'Tis  time  to  reap  when  the  grain  is 

VOL.  II.  11 


122  MARGARET. 

shrunk  and  yellow,  and  I  think  you  ar'nt  much  out  of  the 
way  of  that ;  and  it  seems  time  to  pray." 

"  I  shall  not  feel  bad,"  replied  Margaret ;  "  you  are  so 
good  to  me,  and  I  love  Christ  now,  and  should  be  glad  to 
hear  any  thing  he  says." 

The  Deacon  read  from  the  Gospels,  then  with  his  wife 
knelt  in  prayer.  Margaret,  also,  by  some  sympathetic 
or  other  impulse  also  bowed  herself  down, — and  for  the 
I  first  time  in  her  life  united  in  a  prayer  to  the  Supreme 
j  Being  ;  and  we  cannot  doubt  the  effect  was  salutary  on  her 
feelings.  She  slept  that  night  in  the  other  front  room, 
where  was  the  spare  bed,  with  red  and  blue  chintz  curtains 
over  square  testers,  and  a  floor  neatly  bespread  with  rag 
mats.  The  next  morning  she  expressed  great  anxiety 
about  her  brother,  said  she  wished  either  to  see  him,  or 
have  his  violin  conveyed  to  him. 

"  Things  are  a  good  deal  stived  up,"  answered  the 
Deacon.  "  People's  minds  are  sour,  and  I  don't  know, 
Molly,  what  we  can  do.  It's  nater  you  see,  one  doesn't 
like  to  have  a  son  killed.  Then  the  politicals  are  all  out  of 
kelter,  one  doesn't  hardly  know  his  own  mind,  and  all  are 
afraid  of  what  is  in  another's.  I  suppose  they  won't  allow 
you  to  go  into  the  jail,  they  think  you  and  your-  brother 
would  brew  mischief  together,  and  perhaps  he  would  break 
out.  The  building  is  old  and  slimsy.  I  am  going  to  the 
barber's  to  be  dressed,  and  I  will  take  the  fiddle  along  with 
me,  and  see  how  things  look.  But  don't  you  stir  out  of  the 
house  ;  I  am  scrupulous  about  what  might  happen.  It  is 
no  use  reasoning  with  the  people,  any  more  than  with  a 
horse  that  is  running  away." 

The  Deacon  took  the  instrument  under  his  surcoat,  and 
went  to  the  barber's,  where  the  bi-weekly  operation  of 
shaving  and  powdering  was  performed.  "When  he  was 


THE     TRIAL.  123 

alone  with  Tony,  he  propounded  the  wish  of  Margaret ;  to 
which  the  negro  replied  that  he  would  do  what  he  could. 
The  same  evening,  Tony,  with  his  own  and  the  instrument 
of  Chilion,  presented  himself  to  Mr.  Shocks.  "  You  know," 
said  he,  "  that  at  the  last  ball,  I  couldn't  play  because  my 
strings  were  broke,  and  the  Indian  is  the  very  best  man 
this  side  of  York  to  fix  them.  And  then  this  gentleman  is 
learning  a  new  jig,  and  he  wants  the  Indian  to  try  it  with 
him." 

"  You  can't  go  in,"  said  Mr.  Shooks.  "  We  have  got 
the  rascal  chained,  and  mean  to  keep  him  down.  There  is 
no  trusting  any  body  now-a-days.  All  the  vagabonds  in 
the  country  will  rise,  and  have  the  government  into  their 
hands  the  next  we  know  !  " 

"  If  Mister  Shooks  would  permit  this  gentleman  to  be 
stow  so  much  honor  on  him  as  to  go  into  the  prison,  and 
take  the  Indian's  fiddle,  he  would  shave  Mr.  Shooks  and 
powder  him  with  the  most  patent  new  violet,  crape  and  roll 
Miss  Runy  in  the  most  fashionable  etiquette,  and  give  her 
an  Anodyne  Necklace,  all  for  nothing,  all  for  the  honor  of 
the  thing." 

"  You  may  go  in  once,"  replied  Mr.  Shooks,  tl  but  don't 
come  again;  and  Tony,"  whispered  the  vigilant  warden, 
"  see  if  you  can't  find  out  if  the  villain  means  to  break 
jail.  I  would  not  lose  having  him  hung  for  a  thousand 
pounds." 

Tony  being  admitted,  remained  a  short  time  with  Chilion, 
left  the  violin,  and  was  summoned  away. 

The  next  day  Esquire  Bowker  called  on  Margaret, 
informed  her  of  the  usages  of  Courts,  and  while  he  tendered 
his  professional  services  in  behalf  of  her  brother  as  Coun 
sellor,  he  urged  the  necessity  of  a  more  complete  acquaint- 


124  MARGARET. 

ance  with  the  case  than  he  then  possessed  ;  but  Margaret 
replied  that  on  all  points  she  was  as  ignorant  as  himself. 

That  night,  impatient  of  delay,  anxious  to  approach 
nearer  her  brother,  at  a  late  hour  when  the  streets  were 
empty,  she  sallied  out,  and  crossed  the  Green  to  the  Jail. 
Presently  she  heard  the  familiar  voice  of  Chilion's  music, 
proceeding  from  a  low  and  remote  corner  of  the  building. 
Climbing  a  fence,  and  reaching  a  spot  as  near  the  cell  of 
her  brother  as  the  defences  of  the  place  would  permit,  she 
again  listened ;  then  in  the  intervals  she  made  sounds 
which  she  thought  might  be  heard  by  her  brother  ;  but  no 
token  was  returned ;  only  she  continued  to  hear  low,  sad, 
anguished  notes  that  pierced  her  heart  with  lively  distress. 
Dick,  it^appeared,  had  again  followed  her;  perhaps  in  the 
midst  of  strangers  he  could  abide  her  absence  with  less 
composure  than  ever  ;  and  soon  she  had  him  in  her  arms. 
He  too  heard  the  sound  from  the  prison,  the  familiar  tones 
of  his  Master;  it  required  little  urging  on  the  part  of  Mar 
garet  to  send  him  clambering  over  the  palisade — up  the 
logs  of  the  building  he  went  and  into  the  cell  of  Chilion  ; 
presently  Margaret  heard  a  changed  note,  one  of  recog 
nition  and  gladness ;  soon  also  the  creature  came  leaping 
back  to  her  shoulder.  Glad  would  she  have  been  to  leave 
him  with  her  brother,  but  it  would  be  unsafe  for  him  to  be 
found  there  ;  glad  was  she  thus  to  communicate  with  the 
imprisoned  one  at  all. 

A  new  thought  struck  ^  r ;  hastening  back  to  the 
Deacon's,  on  a  slip  of  paper  she  wrote  to  her  brother,  then 
returning  to  the  jail,  and  fastening  her  billet  to  the  body 
of  Dick,  she  renewed  her  former  experiment  with  success  ; 
she  also  sent  in  a  pencil  and  paper  for  her  brother.  The 
next  night  pursuing  this  device,  she  had  the  satisfaction  not 
only  of  transmitting  solace  to  Chilion,  but  of  receiving  mes- 


THE    TRIAL.  125 

sages  from  him.  This  novel  species  of  Independent  Mail  she 
employed  the  few  nights  that  remained  before  the  trial. 
On  one  point  she  could  draw  nothing  from  her  brother — that 
of  his  relation  to  the  homicide.  She  kept  within  doors 
most  of  the  day,  and  only  ventured  abroad  under  cover  of 
midnight ;  she  saw  little  or  nothing  of  her  own  family  ;  and 
heard  nothing  of  Rose  and  Nimrod. 

The  day  of  the  dreaded  Trial  came  at  last.  A  true  bill 
had  been  found  against  Chilion,  and  he  stood  arraigned 
on  the  charge  of  murder.  Margaret  heard  the  Court-bell 
ring,  and  her  own  heart  vibrated  with  a  more  painful 
emphasis.  Leaving  her  at  the  Deacon's,  we  will  go  to  the 
Court-house.  The  tribunal  was  organized  with  Judge 
Morgridge  at  the  head  of  the  bench.  Chilion  was  brought 
in,  his  face,  never  boasting  great  color  or  breadth,  still  paler 
and  thinner  from  his  confinement,  and  darkly  shaded  by  a 
full  head  of  long  black  hair.  The  right  of  challenge  Be 
showed  no  inclination  to  employ,  and  the  panel  was  formed 
without  delay. 

To  the  Indictment,  charging,  that  "  not  having  the  fear 
,of  God  before  his  eyes,  but  being  moved  and  seduced  by 
the  instigation  of  the  Devil,  feloniously,  wilfully,  and  of  his 
malice  aforethought^  he  did. assault,  strike  and  stab  Solomon 
Smith,  thereby  inflicting  a  mortal  wound,"  etc.,  the  prisoner 
arose  and  pleaded  Not  Guilty ;  then  sat  down  and  threw  his 
head  forward  on  the  front  of  the  Box  ;  a  position  from  which 
neither  the  attentions  of  his  Counsel  nor  any  interest  of  the 
Trial  could  arouse  him.  The  building  was  thronged  with 
curious  and  anxious  spectators  from  Livingston  and  the 
towns  about.  The  examination  of  witnesses  went  on. 
The  substance  of  the  testimony  was  similar  to  that  given 
before  the  Justice.  It  bore  increasing  proofs  of  a  general 
belief  in  the  guilt  of  the  prisoner ;  first  impressions  had 
11* 


126  MARGARET. 

been  corrected  by  subsequent  reflection,  doubts  moulded 
into  conviction,  and  whatever  was  obscure  rendered  distinct 
and  intelligible. 

The  Counsel  for  the  defence  had  but  little  to  reply. 
Sibyl  Radney  believed  the  wound  was  inflicted  by  a  piece 
of  broken  glass  that  fell  with  the  table.  This  could  not  be. 
Esq.  Bowker  had  applied  the  cross  examination  ;  it  seemed 
to  elicit  nothing.  There  was  a  question  as  to  the  intent  of 
the  accused,  but  the  more  this  matter  was  pursued  the 
darker  it  grew.  There  were  plenty  to  testify  to  the  utter 
malignity  of  the  mind  of  the  prisoner.  Was  the  file  thrown 
with  purpose  to  kill,  or  only  to  injure?  That  made  no  dif 
ference  ;  the  Court  ruling  that  death  in  either  case  was  the 
same  in  the  eye  of  the  law.  In  addition  to  causes  operating 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood,  the  newspapers  of  the 
country  came  in  filled  with  details  of  a  "  Shocking  and 
Brutal  Murder  in  Livingston,"  and  in  one  instance,  it  was 
pertinently  hinted  that  "  the  present  afforded  another  oppor 
tunity  for  the  exercise  of  Executive  Clemency."  Obviously 
there  was  a  clear  conviction  of  the  guilt  of  the  prisoner  in 
the  public  mind,  and  the  testimony  before  the  Court  went 
far  towards  establishing  the  soundness  of  that  feeling. 
Night  closed  the  scenes  and  nearly  finished  the  results  of 
the  trial. 

After  dark,  Margaret,  whose  sensations  during  the  day 
can  as  well  be  imagined  as  described,  sought  a  breathing 
place  in  the  open  air ;  she  walked  towards  the  Green ;  but 
the  shadows  of  men  moving  quickly  to  and  fro,  and  echo  of 
excited  voices,  drove  her  back.  As  she  retreated,  she  was 
stopped  by  the  sound  of  her  own  name ;  Pluck  called  after 
her,  evidently  moved  by  other  than  his  ordinary  stimulus. 

"  It  is  all  over  with  Chilion,"  said  he,  "  unless  we  can  get 
Judge  Morgridge  to  help  us ;  he  can  set  the  Jury  right  in 


THE    TRIAL.  127 

his  charge,  or  do  something ;  you  must  go  right  up  and  see 
him." 

Margaret,  by  a  cross  path,  sped  her  way  to  the  Judge's  ; 
she  met  Susan  at  the  door,  to  whom  she  stated  her  errand. 
Susan  sought  her  father  in  the  library.  "  No,"  replied  the 
Judge,  "  let  me  not  see  the  girl.  There  are  points  in  the 
case  I  do  not  understand,  but  the  evidence  against  the 
prisoner  is  overwhelming."  "  O,  father,"  replied  Susan, 
"  what  if  she  were  me,  or  her  brother  our  Arthur !  "  "  Speak 
not,  my  child,  our  duties  are  imperious,  our  private  feelings 
are  borne  away  by  a  higher  subserviency.  The  public 
mind  is  much  excited;  God  knows  where  it  will  end,  or  how 
many  shall  be  its  victims."  "  But,  if  my  dear,  dead  mother 
were  her  mother,  or  you  were  his  father!"  "Let  the  girl 
not  come  near  me,  let  me  not  hear  her  voice,  let  not  her 
agony  reach  me,  leave  me  to  compose  myself  for  the  awful 
task  before  me.  Go  out,  go  out,  my  child." 

Stung  by  this  repulse,  terrified  at  the  prospect  before  her, 
Margaret  passed  a  sleepless  night,  and  before  daybreak  she 
left  the  house,  and  directed  her  course  towards  Sibyl 
Radney's.  She  had  not  gone  far  when  she  met  people 
thronging  to  the  closing  scenes  of  the  trial.  This  diverted 
her  into  the  woods,  and  so  delayed  her  that  when  she  reached 
Sibyl's  all  were  gone  from  there,  excepting  Bull,  who  ran 
fondly  towards  her  and  was  caressed  with  tears.  She  went 
down  to  the  Widow  Wright's,  whose  house  was  likewise 
deserted ;  and  she  continued  on  the  Via  Salutaris  to  her  own 
home.  Here  were  only  silence  and  desolation ;  one  of  her 
birds  she  found  frozen  to  death  on  the  door-stone. 

Restless,  anxious,  she  returned  towards  the  Village  by 
the  Via  Dolorosa.  She  hung  on  the  skirts  of  the  Green 
with  an  indeterminate  feeling  of  inquisitiveness,  awe,  and 
terror  ;  seating  herself  on  a  rock  in  the  Pasture,  a  chilling 


128  MARGARET. 

desperation  of  heart  seized  her,  and  with  an  agitating  sense 
of  the  extinguishment  of  hope  her  eye  became  riveted  on 
the  Court-house.  Presently  she  saw  persons  running  to 
wards  that  building,  which  was  now  an  object  of  public  as 
well  as  individual  interest.  She  knew  the  hour  of  final 
decision  had  arrived.  With  a  rapid  step  she  descended 
the  West  Street,  turned  the  corner  of  the  Crown  and  Bowl, 
and  soon  became  involved  in  a  crowd  of  men  who  were 
urging  their  way  into  the  Court-room. 

"  The  Judge  is  pulling  on  the  Black  Cap,"  was  reported 
from  within.  "  Tight  squeezing,"  said  one,  u  but  your 
brother  will  soon  be  thankful  for  as  much  room  to  breathe 
in  I  guess."  "  Won't  you  let  me  pass  ?  "  said  Margaret. 
"  We  can't  get  in  ourselves,"  was  the  reply.  "  The  Injin's 
dog  has  bit  me,  I'm  killed,  I'm  murdered,"  was  an  alarm 
raised  in  the  rear.  "  Drub  him,  knock  him  in  the  head," 
was  the  response  ;  and  while  the  stress  relaxed  by  numbers 
breaking  away  in  pursuit  of  Bull,  who  had 'folio wed  his 
Mistress,  Margaret  pressed  herself  into  the  porch  ;  wimble- 
like,  she  pierced  the  stacks  of  men  and  women  that  filled 
the  hall.  "  What,  are  you  here,  Margery  ?  "  exclaimed 
Judah  Weeks,  with  an  undertone  of  surprise.  "  Do  help 
me  if  you  can,"  was  the  reply.  She  sprang  upon  the  back 
of  the  prisoner's  Box,  seized  with  her  hand  the  balustrade, 
and  resting  her  feet  on  the  casement,  was  supported  in  her 
position  by  Judah,  who  folded  himself  about  her.  Her 
bonnet  was  torn  off,  her  dress  and  hair  disordered,  her  face 
and  eye  burned  with  a  preternatural  fire.  This  movement, 
done  in  less  time  than  it  can  be  told,  had  not  the  effect  to 
divert  the  dense  and  packed  assemblage,  who  were  bending 
forward,  form,  eye  and  ear,  to  catch  the  words  of  the 
sentence,  then  .dropping  from  the'  lips  of  the  Judge. 
Chilion,  who  was  standing  directly  before  her,  with  his 


THE   TRIAL.  129 

head  bent  down,  remained  unmoved  by  what  transpired  be 
hind  him. 

The  Judge  himself  seemed  the  first  to  be  disturbed  by 
this  vision  of  affection,  anguish  and  despair  that  arose  like 
a  suddenly  evoked  Phantom  before  his  eye.  He  halted,,  he 
trembled,  he  proceeded  with  a  stammering  vioce — "  You 
have  violated  the  laws  of  the  land,  you  have  broken  the  com 
mands  of  the  Most  High  God;  you  have  assailed  the 
person  and  taken  the  life  of  a  fellow-being.  With  malice 
aforethought,  and  wicked  passions  rife  in  your  breast — " 
"  No  !  no  !  "  outshrieked  Margaret.  "  He  never  intended 
to  kill  him,  he  never  did  a  wicked  thing,  he  was  always 
good  to  us,  my  dear  brother." — She  leaned  forwards, 
grasped  her  brother's  head  and  turned  his  face  up  to  full 
view.  "  Look  at  him,  there  is  no  malice  in  him  ;  his  eye 
is  gentle  as  a  lamb's  ;  speak,  Chilion,  and  let  them  hear 
your  voice,  how  sweet  it  is. — Stop !  Judge  Morgridge, 
stop  !  " — "Order  in  Court !  "  cried  the  Sheriff.  "  Down 
with  that  girl !  "  "It's  nater,  it's  sheer  nater  ;  just  so  when 
I  was  down  to  Arcady,"  exclaimed  Deacon  Ramsdill, 
leaping  from  his  seat  with  a  burst  of  feeling  that  carried 
away  all  sense  of  propriety.  The  Judge  faltered ;  there 
was  confusion  among  the  people ;  but  the  jam  was  so  great 
it  was  impossible  for  any  one  to  stir,  and  those  in  the 
vicinity  of  Margaret  who  attempted  to  put  into  effect  the 
commands  of  the  Sheriff  were  resisted  by  the  stubborn  and 
almost  reckless  firmness  of  Judah.  But  Margaret  throwing 
herself  forward  with  her  arms  about  the  neck  of  her  brother, 
became  still,  as  frozen,  unearthly  despair  can  be  still. 

The  popular  feeling,  only  for  a  moment  arrested,  again 
flowed  towards  the  Judge,  who,  in  the  midst  of  a  silence, 
stark  and  deep  as  the  grave,  went  on  to  finish  his  address, 
and  pronounce  the  final  doom  of  the  prisoner.  He  came 


130  MARGARET. 

to  the  closing  words — "  be  carried  to  the  place  of  execution, 
and  there  be  hung  by  the  neck  till  you  are  dead,  dead, 
dead,"  when  with  a  sudden  convulsive  wail,  Margaret  raised 
herself  aloft,  extended  her  arms,  and  with  a  startling  into 
nation  cried  out,  "Q  God,  if  there  be  a  God!  Jesus 

\  Christ !  Mother  sanctissima  !  am  I  on  Earth  or  in  Hell ! 
My  poor,  murdered  brother  !  Fades  the  cloud-girt,  star 

\  flowering  Universe  to  my  eye  !  I  hear  the  screaming  of 
YHope,  in  wild  merganser  flight  to  the  regions  of  endless 
cold !  Love,  on  Bacchantal  drum,  beats  the  march  of  the 
Ages  down  to  eternal  perdition !  Alecto,  Tisiphone, 
Furies  !  Judges  bear  your  flaming  Torches  ;  the  Beauti 
ful  One  brandishes  an  axe  ;  Serpents  hiss  on  the  Green 
Cross-tree  ;  the  Banners  of  Redemption  float  over  the  woe- 
resounding,  smoke-ingulphed  realms  .of  Tartarus  ! — "she 
relapsed  into  incoherent  ravings,  and  fell  back  in  the  arms 
of  Judah,  wha  bore  Jier  senseless  body  out  through  the 

-gaping  and  awe-stricke^  crowd. 


MARGARET    AND    CHIHON.    *  131 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MARGARET    AND    CHILION. 

MARGARET  was  carried  to  Deacon  Eamsdill's,  where,  af 
ter  hovering  a  few  days  between  extreme  excitability  and 
positive  sickness,  she  at  length  emerged  into  tolerable  com 
posure  and  strength.  There  was  no  precedent  that  for 
bade  a  man  under  sentence  of  death  the  sight  of  his  friends, 
and  what  Margaret  had  so  much  at  heart  she  at  length  at 
tained — permission  to  visit  her  brother.  Her  dress  and 
person  were  strictly  searched  by  Miss  Arunah  Shocks, 
maiden  daughter  of  the  jailor.  She  found  her  brother 
handcuffed,  and  locked  to  the  floor  by  a  chain  about  his 
ankles  ;  a  treatment  some  might  think  unnecessarily  rigid, 
.but  one  to  which  her  own  conduct  had  contributed;  since 
a  scrap  of  paper,  discovered  on  the  prisoner,  led  to  these 
additional  precautions.  The  cell  was  small,  dark,  cold  and 
noisome.  Her  brother  rose  as  she  entered.  She  heard 
the  clanking  of  iron  ;  standing  for  a  moment  like  one  stupe 
fied,  she  rushed  forward  and  folded  the  wretched  one  in  her 
arms.  They  sat  down  together  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed. 
"  My  brother  !  O  my  brother !  poor  Chilion  !  "  and  similar 
outbursts,  was  all  she  could  say.  She  had  many  tears  to 
shed,  and  many  sighs  to  dispose  of,  before  she  could  speak 
with  connection  or  calmness. 

"  It  is  all  over  with  me,"  said  Chilion  at  length. 

"  I  know  it,  I  know  it,"  said  she. 

"  I  have  been  making  up  my  mind  to  the  worst.  If  I 
could  only  put  my  arms  around  you,  Margaret,  I  would 
ask  no  more." 


132  MARGARET. 

"  Dear,  dear  Chilion  !  lean  against  me.    I  can  hold  you." 

"  When  you  was  little  I  carried  you  in  my  arms ;  and 
how  I  have  loved  to  lead  you  through  the  woods!  If  it 
were  not  for  you,  Margaret,  I  should  not  care  so  much  to 
die.  Let  me  feel  your  face." 

"  Tony  gave  me  some  Nuremburg  salve  to  rub  on  your 
sores  ;  but  they  took  it  away  because  they  thought  it  was 
poison.  Would  it  were,  and  that  you  could  kill  yourself  at 
once.  Your  foot  is  dreadfully  swollen." 

"  That  is  the  foot  I  lamed  when  I  was  in  the  woods  after 
you,  Margery ;  I  suffered  more  that  night,  when  I  thought 
you  was  dead,  than  I  have  here." 

"  Poor,  dear  Chilion !  I  will  sit  on  the  floor  and  hold 
your  feet,  The  chain  has  worn  through  your  stocking.  Let 
me  put  my  hand  under." 

"  That  feels  easier  ;  but  don't  sit  there,  my  pains  will 
soon  be  ended.  If  you  smooth  my  hair  a  little  I  should  be 
glad.  I  have  not  been  able  to  lift  my  hand  to  it,  and  it  is 
all  touzled." 

"  You  look  deadly  pale — or  is  it  the  light  of  the  room  ? 
and  how  thin  you  are  !  " 

"  I  have  not  been  able  to  stir  about  any.  I  walked  the 
length  of  my  chain  till  it  hurt  me  so  much." 

"  I  will  hold  up  the  chain,  and  see  if  you  cannot  walk." 

"  No,  no,  Margery,  I  am  content  to  sit  here  by  the  side 
of  you.  It  is  but  a  little  while  we  have  together,  and  I 
feel  as  if  I  had  many  things  to  say  to  you." 

"  To  say  to  me,  my  dear  brother !  How  little  have  we 
spoken  to  one  another  !  Why  do  you  tremble  so  ?  " 

"  O  Margaret,  Margaret !  I  have  loved  you,  so  loved 
you,  as  no  words  can  tell.  All  my  heart  has  been  bound  up 
in  you." 


MARGARET   AND  CHILION.  133 

"  Speak,  Chilion,  tell  me  all  you  feel ;  you  have  always 
been  so  silent." 

"  I  know  I  have,  but  only  because  I  could  not  talk,  or 
did  not  know  what  to  say.  Since  I  have  been  in  prison, 
things  have  labored  in  my  mind,  and  I  have  been  afraid  I 
should  die  without  seeing  you.  When  I  have  been  silent 
I  have  thought  of  you  the  most,  and  loved  you  the  most. 
When  you  came,  a  little  baby,  I  loved  you  ;  I  used  to  feed 
you,  play  with  you,  sleep  with  you ;  I  rocked,  you  to  sleep 
on  my  shoulder  ;  I  loved  your  sweet  baby  breath  ;  I  set  you 
on  the  grass  and  watched  you  while  I  spooled  on  the  door- 
stone  for  Ma  ;  I  took  you  out  in  my  boat  on  the  Pond,  and 
got  Bull  for  you  to  play  with.  When  you  grew  older  I  led 
you  into  the  woods ;  I  made  you  a  canoe  and  taught  you 
how  to  paddle  it ;  I  made  a  sled  for  you  to  coast  with  in 
the  winter;  I  let  you  run  about  in  the  summer.  You 
loved  to  do  these  things,  and  I  knew  it  would  make  you 
strong,  healthy  and  bold.  I  remember  just  how  you  looked 
when  you  were  small,  and  stood  under  a  currant  bush  and 
picked  off  the  currants.  Ma  used  to  watch  you  when 
you  went  through  the  Mowing,  the  grass  as  high  as 
your  head,  and  your  hat  swimming  along  in  it,  and  you 
reached  up  to  get  the  buttercups,  and  I  have  seen  her  cry.  I 
grew  proud  of  you,  you  had  better  parts  than  I ;  and  when 
the  Master  came  to  our  house,  he  took  a  good  deal  of 
notice  of  you,  and  said  you  learned  so  well,  better  than  a 
great  many  did.  As  you  grew  up,  I  followed  you  in  my 
mind  and  with  my  eye,  every  day,  every  hour." 

"  Why  have  you  not  told  me  of  this  before,  Chilion  ?  I 
always  knew  you  loved  me,  but  you  never  expressed  your 
feelings  to  me." 

"  It  was  never  my  nature  to  talk  much  ;  I  did  not  seem 
to  have  the  use  of  words  as  others  did ;  and  I  never  knew 

VOL.  II.  12 


134  MARGARET. 

what  to  say.  Perhaps  I  took  a  kind  of  pride  in  seeing  you 
go  on  ;  you  went  farther  than  I  did,  you  had  more  thoughts 
than  I,  and  I  was  willing  to  be  silent.  You  seemed  to  have 
a  mysterious  soul,  anagogical,  the  Master  calls  it,  and  all  I 
could  do  was  to  play  to  you.  I  played  myself,  my  feelings, 
my  thoughts  to  you." 

"  So  you  did,  Chilion,  and  I  knew  you  felt  a  good  deal." 

"  Almost  my  only  comfort  in  this  world  has  been  you  and 
ray  fiddle.  Our  family  were  once  in  better  circumstances, 
we  have  not  always  lived  at  the  Pond ;  but  that  was  before 
you  were  born.  Pa  did  something  wrong  and  lost  his  ear, 
and  he  never  has  been  himself  since.  We  have  followed 
drinking,  and  that  has  ruined  us.  Ma  has  lost  her  courage, 
Pa  doesn't  care  what  he  does,  and  Hash  is  not  what  he  was 
when  he  was  a  boy.— And  we  were  all  in  drink  that 
dreadful  night." 

"  Can    you  not  now,  Chilion,  tell  me  something  about 
what  happened  then  ? " 
."  Solomon  behaved  bad  to  you  ?  " 

"He  only  asked  to  kiss  me." 

"  Was  that  all  ?  " 

'*  He  said  if  I  wouldn't  let  him,  he  would  turn  us  out  of 
house  and  home  ;  but  I  knew  he  was  drunk,  and  did  not 
mind  him." 

"  Did  he  do  nothing  more  ?  Rose  said  his  manner  was 
insulting." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  ;  but  you  know  I  tasted  some,  and  it 
went  into  my  head  so,  I  hardly  knew  what  was  done.  But 
do  tell  me  if  you  did  murder  him  ?  " 

"  If  I  tell  you  all  I  know,  will  you  truly  promise  never  to 
speak  of  it  till  after  I  am  gone  ?  " 

"  I  will  promise  any  thing ;  but  your  manner  frightens  me. 
What  is  coming?" 


MARGARET    AND    CHILION.  135 

"  Rose,  Margery,  you  know,  loves  you  as  much  as  I  do. 
She  is  happy  only  with  you  ;  and  she  feels  for  you  as  for 
her  own  sister.  That  night  she  told  me  what  Solomon 
was  doing,  and  she  was  very  much  excited  about  it.  We 
had  both  taken  too  much,  and  hardly  knew  what  we  were 
about.  I  was  at  work  on  my  violin  with  the  file,  and  she 
told  me  if  I  did  not  throw  it  she  would — " 

"  Then  you  did  not  do  it,  you  will  not  die  ! " 

"Hear  me,  Margaret,  I  had  murder  in  my  heart;  I 
should  have  been  glad  at  the  moment  to  have  seen  Solo 
mon  shot  dead.     1  know  it  was  a  wrong  feeling,  but  I  had 
it.     I  have  not  had  right  feelings  towards  him  for  a  long  - 
while.     Rose  told  me  how  he  followed  you — " 

"  I  was  never  afraid  of  him  ;  if  he  was  drunk  I  knew  I 
could  get  out  of  his  way,  and  if  he  was  sober  he  would  not 
dare  to  touch  me." 

"That  may  be,  but  Rose  is  very  sensitive  about  what 
might  happen ;  she  seems  to  look  upon  most  men  as  a 
kind  of  devils." 

"Alas!  yes." 

"  I  knew  Solomon  had  a  spite  against  you  because  he 
could  not  find  the  gold ;  and  Eose  told  me  of  his  saying 
you  should  marry  him  or  he  would  turn  us  out  of  doors. 
He  has  been  rough  with  me,  he  cut  down  some  nice  ash 
trees  I  had  marked  for  basket-stuff,  and  once  he  bored  a 
hole  in  my  boat  and  let  her  fill.  I  have  had  dark  feelings 
towards  him,  dark  as  night ;  and  then  the  light  would  come 
and  I  felt  easier.  I  have  wished  him  dead,  and  then  I 
would  go  to  fiddling  and  get  the  better  of  such  thoughts. 
But  that  night  he  seemed  uglier  than  ever,  and  all  things 
looked  gloomy,  and  I  did'nt  care  what  happened.  I  thought 
if  we  were  all  dead  it  would  be  an  end  of  our  troubles.  I 
threw  the  file,  and  I  knew  no  more  about  it." 


136  MARGARET. 

"  Then  you  did  really  mean  to  kill  him  ?  " 

"  The  law  holds  people  answerable  when  they  are  sober 
for  what  they  do  when  they  are  intoxicated.  Besides,  the 
Judge  laid  down  that  if  death  followed  an  act  done  with 
intention  to  injure,  it  was  murder  as  much  as  if  there  was 
an  intention  to  kill 

"  There  was  so  much  noise  and  hurly  burly  in  the  room, 
I  was  hardly  conscious  of  any  thing.  Fa  I  know  began  to 
grow  frantic,  and  seizing  me  by  the  arm  he  ran  with  me  to 
the  barn.  When  I  came  back,  they  carried  Solomon  away, 
and  most  of  them  were  gone.  What  did' Rose  do?" 

"  They  cried  out  that  I  had  done  it.  One  and  another 
said  they  could  swear  they  saw  me  do  it.  I  seemed  to 
come  to  my  senses  ;  I  saw  how  it  was.  I  might  have  tried 
to  get  away,  but  I  was  lame  and  could  not  run.  Rose  said 
it  was  her  act,  and  she  would  abide  the  consequences  ;  and 
told  me  to  take  Nimrod's  horse  and  fly.  When  I  refused, 
she  said  she  would  stay  with  me.  She  fell  on  her  knees 
and  pleaded  to  stay,  she  did  not  wish  to  live,  and  per 
haps  my  life  would  be  saved.  At  last,  Nimrod  mounted 
his  horse,  an  1  Sibyl  dragging  Rose  from  the  house  threw 
her  into  his  arms,  and  they  rode  off." 

«  Unhappy  Rose  !  " 

"  She  grew  very  dear  to  me,  Margaret;  I  could  il^ost 
say,  if  it  were  possible  for  me  to  say  such  a  thing,  I  loved 
her.  One  day  she  told  me  something  of  what  she  had 
been  through.  She  loved  to  hear  me  play,  and  I  knew 
the  music  made  her  happier  and  better.  I  would  die  a 
hundred  deaths  before  a  hair  of  her  head  should  come  to 
harm.  I  have  now  told  you  all,  Margaret ;  I  could  say 
nothing  before.  E.sq.  Bowker  questioned  rne,  and  I  dared 
not  speak,  since  Rose  and  I  were  so  dreadfully  connected  in 
the  thing." 


MARGARET    AND    CHILION.  137 

"  Have  I  not  loved  you,  Chilion.?  Have  I  not  been  kind 
to  you  ?  Yet  not  so  much  as  I  ought  to  have  been.  I 
remember  once  you  asked  me  to  dig  you  some  angle 
worms,  but  I  went  off  into  the  woods  and  did  not  do  it. 
Can  you  forgive  me  for  that  ?  And  now  you  are  gping  to 
die,  it  seems  as  if  I  had  not  been  half  so  good  to  Pa  and 
Ma,  and  Hash  and  Bull,  as  I  ought  to  have  been.  0,  I 
can  understand  now  what  those  people  mean  who  say  they 
feel  so  wicked  !  I  thank  you  for  telling  me  so  much ;  do, 
Chilion,  tell  me  more  about  yourself." 

"  What  I  think  more  of  than  any  thing  is  you,  my  dear 
sister.  I  seem  to  have  had  strange  hopes  about  you.  I 
remembered  the  dreams  you  had  when  you  was  a  girl,  you 
have  seemed  to  me  sometimes  destined  to  good  things. 
There  is  something  about  you  I  could  tell,  but  if  you  live 
you  will  know  all,  and  if  you  do  not, — well,  let  it  go.  I 
have  brought  you  up  to  music,  Margaret,  I  have  taught 
you  the  notes,  and  as  much  of  the  art  as  I  know.  The 
Master  always  insisted  you  should  have  books,  though  I 
did  not  care  much  about  them.  There  is  a  great  deal  in 
Music.  I  have  played  myself  to  you  when  I  could  not 
speak  it." 

"  Alas  !  And  where  shall  I  hear  any  more  Music  or 
another  Chilion ! " 

u  Let  that  go  now. — Those  who  can  be  reached  by 
nothing  else  are  reached  by  Music  ;  at  the  balls  and  dances 
I  have  seen  this." 

"  I  thought  things  went  strange  sometimes,  and  I  could 
not  account  for  it." 

"  I  could  raise  a  storm,  and  then  still  it.      It  was  given 
me  to  perceive  this  power  when  I  was  quite  a  boy.      You 
remember  the  brawl  at  No.  4,  one  Thanksgiving,  we  cured 
by  a  song.     I  cannot  explain  it,  I  only  saw  it  was  done." 
12* 


If  8  MARGARET. 

"  It  must  be  what  Deacon  Ramsdill  calls  '  nater.'  " 

"There  is  nature  in  it.  I  have  seen  the  Old  Indian  stop 
against  our  door  a  long  time  when  I  have  been  playing." 

"  Rose  was  completely  subdued,  and  at  times  wholly 
transformed  by  your  Music." 

"  Yes,  and  how  we  could  manage  Dick  ;  and  when  they 
brought  you  up  out  of  the  woods,  I  had  them  all  a  dancing, 
even  what  the  Mater  calls  the  saints  danced,  and  the  Minis 
ters  looked  on  and  smiled." 

"  Is  not  Music  what  the  Deacon  calls  praying  ?  lie 
says  it  is  '  feeling  up.'  " 

"  Yes,  it  is  that.  I  have  done  all  my  praying  with  my 
{  d  e.  I  had  a  tune  almost  ready  for  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
which  I  was  taught  a  good  many  years  ago.  When  you 
talk  with  people  their  prejudices  close  their  ears  against 
you  ;  when  you  play  it  seems  to  open  their  hearts  at  once. 
Music  goes  where  words  cannot.  And  Music  makes  people 
so  happy,  and  when  they  are  happy,  they  love  one  another. 
Music  takes  aw:  y  the  bad  passions,  and  people  are  not 
envious  or  quarrelsome  while  you  play.  All  this  I  have 
seen,  and  it  would  always  be  so,  if  it  were  not  for  the 
drinking.  If  I  could  have  got  ready  and  played,  as  I  was 
going  to  do,  I  think  Solomon  would  not  have  been  rude  to 
you,  as  you  say  somebody  tamed  wild  beasts  and  savages 
by  Music — " 

"  Orpheus,  you  mean,  who  subdued  Pluto  and  rescued 
Eurydice  with  his  lyre  ?  " 

"  There  is  something  else,  it  has  seemed  to  me  that 
Music  might  be  a  good  thing  for  the  world.  I  have  some 
times  thought  if  I  were  not  lame,  and  we  were  not  so  poor, 
I  would  travel  off  and  make  Music.  You,  too,  Margaret, 
can  play,  you  can  sing  songs,  your  voice  and  ear  are  good. 
You  know  how  we  are  at  home,  you  know  what  people 


MARGARET    AND    CHILION.  139 

think  of  us  ;  it  has  seemed  to  me  that  we  might  make  our 
way  up  among  folks  by  Music.  I  have  had  many,  many 
thoughts  about  you  and  Music,  and  the  world,  more  than  I 
can  speak  of.  You  yourself  have  a  certain  unknown  connec 
tion  with  Music,  which  I  cannot  tell.  Then  I  do  not  mean 
mere  fiddle-strings,  because  when  you  told  me  about  your 
Dream  of  Jesus,  he  seemed  to  me  like  a  Harp,  it  had  the 
same  effect  on  me  that  Music  does  ;  then  in  one  of  your 
Dreams  you  said  you  heard  invisible  Music.  It  is  not  all 
in  catgut  and  rosin.  There  has  been  a  certain  something 
in  my  mind,  which  I  have  not  words  to  explain.  It  has 
been  coming  upon  me  for  several  years.  I  think  it  is  one 
thing  that  has  closed  my  mouth  so.  My  heart  and  thought 
have  gone  out  to  it  very  often.  And  now  I  am  cut  off  in 
the  midst  of  my  hopes " 

"  O  sad  condition !  0  most  inexplicable  existence  !  I  am 
sunk  lower  than,  our  bottomless  Pond,  in  doubt  and  fear. 
I  can  now  feel  as  Rose  does  what  a  dreadful  thing  life  is. 
The  Fates  have  left  us  the  solitary  comfort  of  a  tear!  " 

(t  Let  us,  my  dear  sister,  bear  up  under  it  as  well  as  we 
can.  You  will  live  if  I  do  not ;  Apollo's  Lyre,  as  you  call 
it,  I  bequeath  to  you." 

"  Pitiful  Fiddle  I  Here  it  lies  broken-hearted  like  its 
Master.  When  I  heard  you  playing  the  other  night,  it 
sounded  to  me  as  if  Rose's  heart  had  s  been  set  in  motion 
like  a  wild  harp.  It  will  never,  never  play  another  tune." 

«I  hear  the  bolts  shoving,  they  are  coming  for  you. 
Parson  Welles  and  Deacon  Hadlock  were  here  yesterday, 
but  I  could  not  say  much  to  them.  I  wish  you  would  ask 
Deacon  Ramsdill  to  come,  and  the  Camp-preacher.  He 
prayed  so  for  you,  when  you  was  lost  in  the  woods,  I  can 
never  forget  him.  I  want  also  to  have  Dick  stay  with  me, 
if  they  will  let  him.  If  you  see  Ma,  I  wish  you  would  ask 


140  MARGARET. 

her  to  bring  me  a  clean  linen  shirt,  and  my  best  cloth°s 
those  I  wore  to  balls,  I  had  rather  come  to  my  last  in 
them." 

"  O,  Chilion  !  O,  my  brother  !  " 

"  Be  quiet,  Margaret,  as  you  can.  Let  us  hope,  if  our 
sins  are  forgiven,  we  shall  meet  in  a  better  world." 

Margaret  was  obliged  to  leave  her  brother.  She  repre 
sented  his  wishes  to  Deacon  Ramsdill.  "  The  Parson  and 
Brother  Hadlock  tell  a  hard  story  of  Chilion,  I  know," 
replied  the  Deacon.  "  But  we  should  not  judge  too  harsh. 
Down  to  Arcady  they  said  the  French  were  savages,  that 
their  crosses  bewitched  the  people  ;  but  they  were  a  dread 
ful  harmless  set  of  folk.  And  we  must  take  care  too, 
Molly,  what  we  think.  The  Parson  has  a  good  de  il  of 
nater  in  him,  only  it  is  all  grown  over  with  notions  and 
politicals.  You  give  your  cows  tarnips  and  you  taste  it  in 
the  milk ;  now  he  has  been  feeding  on  tarnips  all  his  days, 
and  I  count  your  brother  don't  like  the  smack  of  him.  Be 
sides,  Chil  is  what  we  were  saying  the  other  day,  a  baby 
in  these  matters,  and  he  ought  to  have  the  very  sweetest 
and  best  of  milk,  and  if  you  put  in  a  little  molasses  it 
wouldn't  hurt  him.  Brother  Hadlock  has  nater  too, 
nobody  in  the  world  would  sooner  do  you  a  kindness. 
But  he  runs  of  an  idea  that  things  are  about  done  for,  that 
there  is  no  use  trying  any  more.  But,  if  we  would  fetch 
the  butter  we  must  keep  the  dasher  a-going.  Yellow-bugs 
have  been  the  pest  of  our  gardens  for  two  or  three  year ; 
now  I  have  noticed  they  don't  trouble  new  burnt  ground. 
If  we  should  get  burnt  over  a  little,  perhaps  we  could  raise 
better  squashes  and  cowcumbers  than  we  do  now.  The 
Preacher  is  more  nateral,  but  he  is  as  wild  as  a  calf  that 
runs  in  the  woods.  When  you  wind  a  ball  of  yarn  you 
make  little  holes  with*  your  thumb  and  finger,  and  as  you 


X 


MARGARET    AND    CHILION.  141 

wind  along  you  cover  them  up,  and  when  you  are  done, 
the  ball  has  a  great  many  of  these  holes,  So  folk  get  all 
wound  up  with  their  notions  and  politicals  and  harem- 
scarems,  but  they  are  still  chock  full  of  these  little  holes  of 
nater.  Speaking  of  holes,  I  have  seen  mice  make  their 
nests  in  rocks,  and  then  the  bees  came  and  used  these  nests 
for  hives,  so  that,  arter  all,  we  got  nice  honey  out  of  hard 
rocks  and  mischievous  mice.  I  will  try  to  get  the  squirrel 
to  your  brother.  Down  to  A  ready,  the  little  gals  cried  as 
if  their  hearts  would  break  because  we  wouldn't  let  them 
bring  away  their  moppets  and  baby-houses ;  I  can't  forget 
that." 

During  the  interval  between  the  Trial  and  End,  a  period 
of  ten  days,  Margaret  was  allowed  to  visit  her  brother  two 
or  three  times.  Soon  as  possible  after  the  sentence,  under 
the  auspices  of  Deacon  Ramsdill,  a  petition  was  privately 
circulated,  for  the  pardon  of  the  prisoner;  it  was  sent  to 
the  Governor  with  about  half  a  dozen  signatures,  at  the 
head  of  which  stood  the  name  of  Judge  Morgridge.  This 
movement  was  vain. 

The  day  preceding  the  last  was  consecrated  to  final  in 
terviews.  The  sheriff  having  taken  up  his  quarters  at  the 
jail-house,  and  a  guard  being  kept  about  the  premises  at 
night,  it  was  deemed  safe  to  knock  the  chains  from  the 
prisoner,  and  allow  him  a  more  commodious  and  better 
lighted  apartment.  He  had  on  the  dress  he  ordered,  a 
pearl-colored  coat,  buff  swansdown  vest,  white  worsted 
breeches  and  stockings,  all  somewhat  worn  and  faded. 
Margaret  brought  a  new  linen  stock  the  widow  Luce  made 
for  him.  Tony  the  Barber  came  in  to  perform  his  last 
office  on  the  condemned. 

"  Don't  know  but  it  cuts,"  said  the  negro.  "  I  am  get 
ting  old,  and  my  hand  is  unsteady."  j 


142  MARGARET. 

"You  stand  a  chance  to  wash  off  the  blood,"  replied 
Chilion. 

"Cold,  gusty  day,"  said  Tony,  "can't  keep  the  water 
out  of  these  eyes.  Never  shaved  a  man  going  to  be  hung 
the  next  day,  since  the  War,  and  them  was  wicked  tories. 
Neck  as  fair  as  Mistress  Margery's.  Sheriff  Kingsland 
wanted  to  get  this  gentleman  to  play  the  drum  to-morrow. 
Can't  degrade  the  profession  at  that  rate — God  bless  Chil 
ion,  good-by,  my  brother ;  forgot  my  rose-powder.  There 
— threw  the  towel  out  of  the  window.  I  am  growing  old 
and  forgetful." 

Margaret  and  Chilion  were  left  to  themselves. 

"  Let  me  kiss  your  neck,"  said  she.  "  I  would  put  my 
arms  about  it,  an  amulet  to  keep  off  the  terrible  things. 
Hold  your  face  to  mine,  let  me  feel  it,  and  keep  the  feeling 
as  long  as  I  live  ;  look  into  my  eyes,  that  I  may  have  your 
eyes  also.  I  want  some  of  your  hair,  too.  How  shall  I 
get  it  unless  I  bite  it  off  ?  I  had  a  pair  of  scissors  in  my 
pocket,  but  they  were  taken  from  me." 

"  Tony  has  forgot  his  razor,  too.  It  lies  there  on  the 
bed.  You  can  use  that." 

"  What  a  tempting  edge  !  "  said  Margaret. 

"  Don't  hold  it  up  to  me  so,"  rej.  lied  Chilion,  "  I  shall 
be  tempted  by  it." 

"I  had  a  thousand  times  rather  you  would  take  your 
own  life  than  that  the  sheriff  should  do  it.  How  easy  for 
you  to  slit  a  vein  !  I  would  catch  the  blood  with  my  own 
lips — you  should  expire  in  my  arms." 

"It  is  considered  wrong  to  kill  one's  self,"  replied  Chilion. 
"They  hold  it  right  to  kill  me  because  I  killed  another." 

"  Right  and  wrong  !  wrong  and  right !  I  am  all  con 
fusion,  Chilion.  There  is  no  truth  or  nature  in  any  thing. 
I  am  losing  all  clearness,  all  sense  of  consistency." 


MARGARET    AND    CHILION.  143 

v 

"  God  lisive  mercy  on  you,  Margaret,  and  on  me,  too ! 
Throw  the  razor  out  of  the  window  !  Let  us  not  keep  it, 
or  talk  about  that." 

"  I  will,  Chilion.     I  would  not  trouble  you." 

"  I  wish  for  your  sake,  my  dear  sister,  I  could  live  longer. 
You  are  all  I  care  for.  You  have  made  our  home  happy. 
But  I  do  not  know  as  I  would  stay  in  this  town.  I  would 
go  elsewhere,  and  perhaps  you  will  find  some  one  to  love 
you.  I  would  like  to  go  up  and  see  the  Pond  once  before 
I  die." 

"  Can  I  leave  it,  Chilion,  its  woods,  my  little  canoe,  my 
flowers,  the  dear  gods,  Mons  Christi,  that  we  had  given  to 
the  Beautiful  One  ?  Whither  in  this  wide  wicked  world 
shall  I  go  ?  Mr.  Evelyn  is  gone,  Isabel  is  sick,  and  per 
haps  she  too  will  die  ;  the  master  is  sick,  and  Rose — she, 
after  all,  is  worse  off  than  I.  Why  do  I  complain  ?  And 
Damaris  Smith  I  know  loved  her  brother,  and  he  too  is 
dead  !  What  is  this  feeling  in  my  breast  ?  How  selfish  I 
seem  to*  myself.  You  alone  are  good.  Ah  me !  miserable 
sinner  that  I  am  !  " 

"  Be  composed,  Margaret.  There  are  things  not  quite 
so  bad  in  my  case  as  in  some  others.  Deacon  Ramsdill 
says  he  will  have  me  buried  in  the  graveyard.  Don't 
cry,  Margaret,  don't  cry ;  if  you  do  I  shall  cry,  and  here 
is  little  Dick  looking  up  into  your  face  as  if  he  meant  to 
cry  too.  I  want  you  to  go  to  Mr.  Smith's  and  ask  their 
forgiveness  for  me,  and  the  little  willow-basket  I  made  to 
hold  your  sewing  work  do  you  give  to  Damaris.  My  boat 
you  may  sell  to  pay  Deacon  Penrose  for  some  screws  and 
a  chisel,  and  some  red  lead  I  got  to  paint  your  canoe  with, 
and  some  silk  Ma  had  to  mend  this  waistcoat.  I  have  eight 
or  ten  baskets  ready  made  which  he  will  take.  My  fiddle 
I  wanted  you  to  have,  but  I  think  you  had  better  sell  it  to 


144  MARGARET. 

pay  some  of  Pa's  debts  ;  Tony,  I  guess,  will  give  six  or 
seven  dollars  for  it.  You  will  find,  Margaret,  in  the  bot 
tom  of  my  chest,  up  garret,  five  dollars  and  a  quarter ;  it 
is  what  I  got  several  years  ago  for  wolf-skins  ;  I  have 
been  saving  it  to  buy  you  a  guitar  ;  but  you  must  take  it  to 
help  pay  for  my  coffin  ;  and  I  want  you  to  go  up  to  the 
Ledge  to  Mr.  Palmer's,  and  get  a  plain  slab  of  marble  to 
put  on  my  grave.  He  has  always  remembered  you  kindly, 
and  I  think  he  will  let  you  have  it  for  a  low  price.  This 
is  a  good  deal  to  ask  of  you,  Margaret,  but  when  I  am 
dead  and  gone,  I  don't  want  people  to  lay  up  little  things 
against  me.  Speak,  Margaret,  don't  you  feel  so  bad.  Get 
up  from  the  floor.  I  can't  raise  you,  but  I  can  hold  you 
in  my  arms.  There,  there,  Margaret." 

"  I  will  do  any  thing,  all  you  wish  ;  but  when  it  is  ended, 
I  only  ask  to  be  laid  under  the  same  sod  with  you." 

"  You  may  live  for  good.  God  only  knows.  You  may 
see  Mr.  Evelyn  again  ;  if  you  do  I  wish  you  would  give 
him  a  lock  of  my  hair,  and  tell  him  as  my  dying  words,  that 
I  truly  forgave  all  men  and  wished  to  be  forgiven  of  all. 
The  lady's  slipper  that  I  made  a  box  for,  I  want  you  to  let 
Susan  Morgridge  have  for  JKsq.  Bowker's  sake  ;  he  is 
going  to  marry  her,  and  this  is  all  I  can  do  for  his  kindness 
to  me.  On  the  slab  I  want  Mr.  Palmer  to  put  '  CHILION,' 
simply.  I  should  like  to  have  it  said,  *  Here  lies  one  who 
tried  to  love  his  fellow-men ' — but  that  cannot  be. — I  hear 
Pa  a-hemming.  Let  us  be  as  still  as  we  can." 

There  entered  the  cell  the  prisoner's  father  and  mother, 
and  his  brothers,  Hash  and  Nimrod.  Margaret  receded  to 
the  foot  of  the  bed,  where  she  sat  with  her  face  folded  in. 
her  hands.  The  bloated  frame  of  Pluck  surged  and 
trembled  ;  on  his  bald  crimson  pate  stood  large  drops  of 
sweat ;  in  most  sober  and  earnest  grief  he  embraced 


MARGARET    AND    CHILION.  145 

Chilion ;  with  a  quivering  lip,  and  a  faltering  accent,  he 
said,  "  Farewell,  mj  son,  farewell  forever ;  "  and  turning 
away,  wept  like  a  child.  "  My  Chilly ! "  exclaimed  the 
mother,  falling  upon  her  son's  neck,  "  My  youngest  boy — 
would  God  I  could  die  for  thee.  My  young  hands  wel 
comed  you  in  your  fair  babyhood,  now  these  old  arms  send 
you  away  to  the  gallows.  You  were  beautiful  for  a 
mother's  eye  to  look  upon.  You  have  been  a  comfort  to 
your  mother,  weak  and  sinful  as  she  is.  I  have  sometimes 
hoped  for  better  days,  but  all  is  over  now."  She  sunk  to 
the  floor  and  sobbed  hysterically.  Hash  was  completely 
choked  with  emotion  ;  he  could  not  speak  at  all.  "I  have 
not  always  been  patient  and  kind  towards  you,"  said 
Chilion ;  "  can  you  forgive  me,  my  dear  brother  ?  "  "  Stuff 
it  out,  like  a  red  Indian,"  said  Nimrod.  "  The  Hell-hacks 
would  crack  to  see  you  flinch.  Your  lips  are  white  as  a 
fox's — you  are  sick,  Chilion,  you  can't  stand,  let  me  lay 
you  on  the  bed — they'll  have  to  hold  you  up  to  hang  you, 
like  stuck  sheep.  If  you  should  die  betwixt  this  and  to 
morrow  twelve  o'clock,  how  many  mourners  you  would  get, 
more  than  you  have  now — I  feel  as  if  the  rope  was  round 
my  throat — hem — I'm  choking ! — Ecod !  I  was  going  to  be 
married  to  Rhody  next  Thanksgiving — Chilion  will  not  be 
there — I  have  been  wicked — I  am  going  to  try  to  do 
better." — Margaret  broke  into  louder  weeping,  and  the 
room  was  pervaded  with  an  uncontrollable  and  shattered 
wail.  In  the  midst  of  all  appeared  Rose,  like  a  pale  and 
sudden  ghost ;  she  ran  forward  to  Chilion  and  clung 
frantically  to  h  m  :  "He  shall  not  die,  I  did  it,  I  did  it,  let 
me  suffer  for  him,"  she  said  in  a  wild  passionate  tone. 
iNimrod  was  obliged  to  interfere  ;  she  resolutely  persisted  ; 
by  force  he  unfastened  her  grasp  and  carried  her  struggling 
out  of  the  apartment. 

VOL.  II.  13 


146  MARGARET. 

Deacon  Ramsdill  and  the  Preacher  came  in  ;  all  knelt, 
while  the  latter,  in  heartfelt  earnestness  and  tender 
solemnity,  commended  the  soul  of  the  prisoner  to  God  and 
the  forgiveness  of  his  grace.  Smiles  and  good  humor  fled 
the  face  of  the  Deacon,  whose  deep  and  variegated  furrows 
were  flowed  with  tears.  The  few  friends  and  acquaintances 
of  Chilion  came  to  bid  him  farewell,  and  Margaret  was 
again  left  alone  with  her  brother.  These  final  moments  of 
the  two,  so  tenderly  attached,  so  mournfully  separated,  we 
will  not  intrude  upon. 


SHADES    AND    DARKNESS.  147 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE    EXECUTION. 

THE  morning  of  the  Execution,  like  that  of  the  Resurrec 
tion,  brought  out  "  both  small  and  great,  a  multitude  which 
no  man  could  number."  They  came  "from  the  East  and 
the  West,  the  North  and  the  South."  They  came  from 
distances  of  eight,  twenty,  and  even  forty  miles.  Hawkers 
of  ballads,  a  "  Lion  from  Barbary,"  Obed  peddling  his 
nostrums,  gaming  tables,  offered  attractions  to  the  crowd. 

At  an  early  hour  Margaret  left  the  Deacon's,  where 
whatever  might  have  been  her  inclinations  she  could  hardly 
have  found  accommodation,  since  the  house  was  filled  with 
strangers  from  the  fourth  to  the  fourteenth  shade  of  rela 
tionship,  including  half  a  score  of  infants.  Taking  what 
on  the  whole  seemed  to  be  the  most  feasible  route  whereby 
to  escape  the  annoyance  of  the  multitude  and  horrors  of 
the  day,  she  hid  herself  in  the  deep  bed  and  under  the 
decayed  foliage  of  Mill  Brook.  Slowly  sauntering  up  the 
stream,  she  found  herself  on  the  open  road,  and  close  by 
the  premises  of  Anthony  Wharfield.  "  Ami  too  late  for 
the  hanging ?"  said  a  man,  stopping  to  take  breath.  "I 
hav'nt  missed  of  one  these  thirty  year,  and  I  would'nt  any 
more  than  Sunday."  "  Thee  had  better  go  and  see,"  was 
the  laconic  reply  of  Ruth,  who  seeing  Margaret,  hastened 
to  meet  her.  "  Aristophanes,  my  son  !  Holdup,  knave, 
you  graze  the  limbs  of  my  dear  daughter,"  was  the  hurried 
language  of  Mr.  Adolphus  Hadlock.  "  I  have  been  to 


148  MARGARET. 

cousin  Sukeyanna's  to  bring  down  the  children.  Are  we 
in  time  ?  Socrates,  your  sister  is  slipping  from  the  pillion. 
I  would  not  have  you  fail  of  this  opportunity  on  any 
account.  Triandaphelda  Ada,  you  will  be  belated.  Your 
mother,  dear,  is  waiting  for  us ;  she  says  seeing  a  man 
hanged  is  the  most  interesting  sight  she  ever  beheld."  "  I 
can't  endure  this,"  said  Margaret.  "Well,  then,  come 
into  the  house,"  said  the  woman.  "  Anthony  will  succor 
thee ;  he  is  sorely  troubled  for  thee." 

Leaving  Margaret  at  the  Quaker's,  let  us  follow  up  the 
current  of  general  attraction.  The  bell  tolled,  and  the 
condemned  one  was  duly  escorted  to  the  meeting-house. 
Parson  Welles  preached  a  discourse,  a  printed  copy  of 
which,  with  its  broad  black  margin  and  vignette  represent 
ing  the  gallows,  now  lies  before  us.  The  following  passage 
occurs,  which  illustrates  the  style  of  the  parson's  ordinary 
pulpit  exercises,  and  also  indicates  his  sentiments  on  the 
present  occasion  : — 

"  Let  the  improvement  be  lastly  to  the  wretched  man 
who  is  now  before  us.  God  says,  *  Whoso  sheddeth  man's 
blood,  by  man  shall  his  blood  be  shed.'  The  just  laws 
of  man  and  the  holy  law  of  Jehovah  call  aloud  for  the 
destrutcion  of  your  mortal  life.  Alas,  miserable  youth, 
you  know  by  sad,  by  woful  experience,  the  living  truth  of 
our  text,  that  the  wages  of  sin  is  death.  As  we  have 
shown  under  our  third  proposition,  by  man's  disobedience 
many  were  made  sinners  ;  and  under  our  fourth,  mankind 
are  already  under  sentence  of  condemnation.  But  there  is 
a  door  of  hope.  As  God  demanded  a  perfect  obedience  of 
the  first  Adam,  the  second  fulfilled  it.  Jesus  Christ  made 
a  propitiation.  He  endured  on  the  cross  the  vengeance 
of  a  broken  law  ;  he  was  punished  by  an  insulted  Divinity. 
We  can  do  nothing  of  ourselves.  But  take  the  Lord  Jesus 


SHADES    AND    DARKNESS.  149 

by  faith  ;  trust  to  his  merits,  repent,  O  repent.  Lay  hold 
of  the  hope  set  before  you.  This  is  the  last  day  of  mercy 
to  your  poor  soul.  But  if  you  refuse  these  offers  of  grace, 
your  departed  soul  must  take  up  its  lodgings  in  sorrow, 
woe  and  misery.  You  must  be  cast  into  the  lake  that 
burneth  with  fire  and  brimstone,  where  deformed  devils 
dwell,  and  the  damned  ghosts  of  Adam's  race." 

The  religious  ceremonies  being  concluded,  the  proces 
sion  was  formed  for  the  place  of  the  end  of  Chilion— a 
sandy  plain  in  the  North  part  of  the  town.  Bristling 
bayonets,  funeral  music,  a  dismal  retinue  of  twenty  thou 
sand  people,  are  some  of  the  items  of  the  showy  route. 


Margaret,  unable  to  contain  herself  within  doors,  anxious 
if  possible  to  find  her  own  family,  plunged  again  into  the 
woods.  She  went  by  an  obscure  and  devious  way  towards 
the  Pond.  Night  was  approaching ;  but  an  untimely  glare 
of  light  while  it  quickened  her  senses  appalled  her  heart. 
Over  Mons  Christi  rolled  up  dark,  cold  clouds,  but  in  the 
North-east  the  heavens  were  distinctly  illuminated.  She 
saw  smoke  rising  and  occasioned  tongues  of  flame.  As 
tounded  and  forlorn,  as  she  came  near  her  old  home,  a  giant 
form  stood  before  her.  It  was  the  Indian  and  his  grand 
daughter.  Seizing  her  arm,  this  fearful  patriarch  of  the 
forest  silently  and  unresistingly  led  her  forwards.  He 
took  her  by  an  old  and  familiar  path  up  the  Head.  What 
13* 


150  MARGARET. 

had  been  a  streak  of  light  in  the  horizon,  they  now  beheld 
a  boiling  angry  river  of  flame.  The  woods  on  the  North 
of  the  Village,  an  extensive  range  of  old  forest,  were  on 
fire.  The  Indian,  without  speaking,  slowly  raised  his  arm, 
and  pointed  steadily  at  the  scene  of  the  conflagration. 

Each  moment  the  effect  increased,  and  the  fire  driven  by 
a  brisk  wind  seemed  to  be  making  rapid  progress  towards 
the  Green.  Sheets  of  sluggish  smoke  were  pierced  and 
dispersed  by  the  nimble  flames  which  leaped  to  the  tops  of 
the  tallest  trees,  assaulted  the  clouds,  and  threw  them 
selves  upon  the  solid  ranks  of  the  forest  as  in  exterminating 
battle.  Beyond  the  fire,  and  up  in  the  extreme  heavens, 
was  a  pitchy  overshadowing  blackness ;  the  faces  of  the 
three  shone  in  a  blood-red  glare ;  behind  them  gathered 
clouds  and  darkness ;  below,  the  water,  the  house,  the 
Mowing,  the  road,  were  immersed  in  impenetrable  shade. 
Margaret  gazed  with  a  mixed  expression  of  anguish, 
surprise  and  uncertainty.  The  Indian  stood  majestically 
erect,  his  mantle  folded  over  his  breast,  his  countenance 
glowing  with  other  than  the  fire  of  the  woods,  his  pursed 
and  wrinkled  features  dilating  and  filling  with  some  great 
internal  emotion.  The  girl  looked  quietly  aud  smilingly 
on.  The  wind  shook  the  tall  white  feather  in  the  old  man's 
head,  threw  Margaret's  bonnet  back  from  her  face,  and 
quivered  in  the  long  black  locks  of  the  girl. 

"  Daughter ! "  said  the  Indian  to  Margaret,  almost  the 
first  words  she  ever  heard  him  utter,  as  the  flames  seized 
and  crunched  the  gnarled  top  of  an  old  dead  tree,  "  behold 
Pakanawket,  grandson  of  Pometacom,  great-grandson  of 
Massassoit,  the  last  of  the  Wampanoags !  Ninety  winters 
have  passed  over  him,  he  has  stood  the  thunder  gust  and 
the  storm-shock — see,  the  fire  consumes  him  ! 

"  Daughter,  hear !  The  great  Pometacom,  called  in  your 


SHADES    AND   DARKNESS.  151 

tongue  King  Philip,  who  rose  to  be  the  liberator  of  his 
country,  was  hacked  in  pieces  by  your  people,  his  head 
exposed  twenty  summers  in  one  of  your  towns  to  the 
insults  of  men  and  the  laughter  of  women.  His  wife, 
Wootonekanuske,  and  his  son,  my  father,  were  sold  for 
slaves.  My  grandmother  pounded  corn  for  the  whites,  she 
bore  on  her  breast  the  brand  of  her  master  ;  but  she 
whispered  in  Pakanawket's  ear  the  purpose  of  his  grand- 
sire,  she  charmed  him  with  the  spell  of  the  Great  Spirit. 
My  father,  escaping  from  slavery,  and  my  mother,  perished 
with  the  Neridgewoks.  Swift  as  a  deer,  still  as  the  flight 
of  an  owl,  I  have  gone  from  the  Kennebec  to  the  Missis 
sippi  ;  I  have  visited  our  people  on  the  Great  Lakes  ;  I 
have  fought  against  French,  English  and  Americans. 
Pakanawket  gave  a  belt  to  no  tribes  of  the  whites,  he  sat 
at  no  council-fire  but  those  of  his  own  countrymen.  His 
wife  was  murdered  by  the  French,  his  children  scalped  by 
the  English.  His  old  arm  grew  weak,  the  strength  of  his 
people  had  perished.  The  Snow-heron  came  and  built  his 
lonely  nest  in  the  green  Cedars  of  Umkiddin ;  there  he  has 
dwelt  with  the  little  Wootonekanuske,  in  your  tongue 
Dove's  Eye.  I  have  put  my  ear  to  the  ground,  I  hear  the 
tramping  of  horses  and  noise  of  battle  ;  he  whose  eye  never 
sleeps  is  on  the  trail  of  the  red  man ;  Wyandot,  Seneca, 
Delaware,  Shaware,  all  have  fallen.  The  white  man 
throws  his  arm  about  the  Great  Lake,  he  gathers  into  his 
bosom  the  Father  of  Waters.  The  red  man  drags  his 
canoe  across  the  graves  of  his  Fathers ;  the  feet  of  his 
children  are  sore  with  travelling  in  the  long  wilderness. 

"  Daughter,  listen !  I  saw  your  song-brother  struggling  in 
death  ;  pleasant  has  been  his  viol  to  me,  pleasant  the  sound 
of  his  voice.  My  heart  wept  for  him,  memories  gushed 
forth.  Where  are  the  brothers,  fathers,  sons,  friends  of 


7 

152  MARGARET. 

Pakanawket  ?  Massassoit,  the  generous,  the  noble,  died 
as  the  caged  Eagle  dies.  Jyanough,  the  fair  and  gentle, 
wasted  in  swamps  where  your  violence  had  driven  him. 
?  iantunnimoh  was  cast  as  a  bear  to  appease  the  wolf  you 
Lad  enraged.  Mononottot  Nanunteenoo,  Paugus,  Chocorus, 
Logan,  Hendrick,  Pontiac,  Thayendanaga,  where  are  they  ? 
Burnt,  beheaded,  hung,  tortured,  enslaved,  exiled ! 

"  Daughter,  listen  !  I  was  taught  to  read  by  a  French 
Panisee ;  I  have  read  your  books,  I  know  what  you  say. 
The  Bashaba,  whom  you  call  King,  that  lived  in  the  East, 
that  great  Pirate  of  the  Seas,  gave  away  to  his  men  our 
country.  He  made  grants  of  our  land,  our  fisheries,  our 
woods,  our  beasts,  our  gardens  and  our  villages.  You 
have  called  us  savages,  dogs,  heathens,  devils,  monsters ; 
we  welcomed  the  strange  men  to  our  shores;  cold  and 
hungry,  we  nourished  them  by  our  firesides.  When  their 
children  were  lost  in  the  woods  we  found  them,  when  their 
poor  people  wanted  corn  we  gave  it  them.  They  stole  our 
young  men  away  and  sold  them  for  slaves  in  unknown 
lands.  They  built  forts  upon  our  grounds,  they  offered 
bounties  for  our  scalps.  When  our  children  were  burning, 
they  gave  thanksgiving  to  their  God.  They  slept  in  our 
wigwams  and  defiled  our  maidens.  They  asked  us  to  their 
Council  Fires,  they  blinded  us  with  rum.  When  we 
resisted,  they  declared  war  upon  us.  There  is  no  brother 
among  the  Indians ;  they  have  turned  our  hearts  against 
each  other. 

"  Daughter,  look!  The  fire  goeson,  the  flames  are  con- 
turning  their  church.  The  Spirit  of  Wrath  scowls  above 
heir  village.  I  saw  your  elder  brother  asleep  in  the 
voods,  his  pipe  had  kindled  the  leaves ;  these  hands  heaped 
ogether  the  faggots,  this  mouth  blew  up  the  flames.  Ha  ! 
Manitou  fights  with  Jehovah,  Areouski  strikes  down  their 


SHADES   AND    DARKNESS.  153 

Holy  Ghost !  See,-  the  steeple  burns.  Men  shall  mourn 
to-night,  children  shall  be  houseless.  But  where  are  the 
Pequods,  the  Narragansetts,  the  Nipmucks,  the  Massachu 
setts  ?  Prate  they  of  Quaboag,  and  Wyoming?  Where 
are  the  Pakonoket,  Mystic,  Genessee  ?  Between  sea  and 
sea,  there  is  not  a  field  or  a  brook  we  can  call  our  own. 
Pakanawket  utters  his  voice,  no  Indian  answers.  He 
looks  over  the  homes  of  his  fathers,  he  sees  only  the  faces 
of  his  enemies.  Wootonekanuske  has  no  brother,  no 
country,  no  home.  The  eyes  of  a  dove  are  red  with 
weeping,  she  looks  towards  the  stars.  Manitou  calls,  we 
go  to  the  Spirit-land.  In  my  belt  is  a  weight  of  gold,  the 
bribe  that  sought  for  Arnolds  among  the  Indians.  Let  it 
do  what  it  was  designed  for,  finish  the  last  of  his  race.  In 
yonder  woods  Pometacom  had  sometime  his  home  ;  on 
these  waters  he  sailed  with  his  little  son.  I  have  come 
hither  to  die.  Daughter  of  the  Beautiful,  take  this  Heron's 
Wreath,  wear  it  for  Wootonekanuske's  sake  ;  she  never 
forgets  a  kindness.  Take  this  land,  this  hill,  these  woods, 
these  waters — they  are  yours.  Sometimes  in  your  love, 
your  happiness,  your  power,  remember  the  poor  Indian ! " 

The  chief,  taking  his  granddaughter  in  his  arms,  delib 
erately  advanced  to  the  edge  of  the  rock,  balanced  himself 
over  the  abyss,  and  leaped  off  into  the  dark  waters,  where, 
borne  down  by  the  weight  of  his  girdle,  he  sank  beyond 
recovery.  We  are  told  of  one  being  broken  on  a  wheel, 
who  after  the  first  blow  laughed  in  the  face  of  the  execu 
tioner,  his  nervous  sensibility  becoming  so  far  extinguished 
that  subsequent  inflictions  created  no  suffering.  Our  moral 
nature  has  its  analogies  in  the  physical ;  and  Margaret, 
already  stricken  by  the  events  of  the  day,  heard  the  fearful 
resolution  of  the  Indian,  and  witnessed  his  tragic  finale 
without  discomposure  ;  she  looked  coolly  for  a  moment  at 


154  MARGARET. 

the  fire,  saw  the  tall  spire  of  the  church  totter  and  fall,  and 
guarding  carefully  the  feathered  ornament  the  Indian  gave 
her,  descended  the  hill.  Entering  the  Via  Salutaris,  she 
met  Sibyl  Radney.  "Is  that  you,  Molly?"  said  Sibyl. 
We  have  hunted  every  where  for  you.  Your  folks^are  at 
our  house ;  Rose  is  there  too.  Rufus  Palmer  has  come 
down,  and  you  are  all  going  to  the  Ledge.  There  is  a 
stump,  now  spring.  The  fire  took  in  the  woods  down 
back  of  our  house ;  it  went  through  aurt  Dolphy's  piece, 
and  so  down  to  the  Horse  Sheds ;  then  the  meeting-house 
caught,  and  the  brands  blew  from  that  to  the  Crown  and 
Bowl — the  Lord  knows  where  it  will  stop.  They  are  all 
drunk  as  beasts  and  wild  as  Bedlamites." 

They  traversed  the  semi-luminous  shadows  of  the  wood 
till  they  came  to  the  junction  of  the  Via  Salutaris  with 
the  west  road  from  the  village.  At  this  point  the  scene 
of  devastation  was  frightfully  distinct.  The  stream  of 
brightness  and  ruin  extended  more  than  a  mile.  They 
beheld  the  old  church,  its  huge  oaken  timbers  resisting  to 
the  last  extremity,  yet  presenting  a  Laocoon-like  spectacle 
of  serpent  flames  coiled  about  it  and  stinging  it  to  death. 
The  tavern  was  fast  sinking  beneath  the  devouring  element, 
and  the  roofs  of  the  buildings  beyond  were  rapidly  kin 
dling.  Whatever  might  be  the  interest  of  the  scene,  it 
did  not  detain  them  long,  and  they  made  the  best  of  their 
way  to  the  house  of  Sibyl.  Here  Margaret  found  all  her 
family,  her  mother  the  image  of  frozen  despair,  Pluck 
trying  to  laugh,  Nimrod  trying  to  whistle,  Hash  stupidly 
intoxicated ;  she  and  Rose  buried  themselves  in  each  oth 
er's  embrace.  Presently  Rufus  Palmer  came  up  from  the 
village.  "  There  were  a  thousand  people  there,"  said  he, 
"but  three  quarters  were  drunk,  and  the  rest  were  so 
scared  they  did'nt  know  what  they  were  about.  The 


SHADES   AND   DABKNES3.  155 

prisoners  in  the  jail  ye^'ed  like  devils  in  burning  hell. 
The  jail-house  was  on  fire,  and  we  could  not  get  in  that 
way,  and  we  stove  in  the  fence,  ripped  out  the  bars,  and 
let  the  poor  dogs  out  through  the  windows.  A  drunken 
crew  got  hold  of  the  stocks  and  threw  them  into  the  fire  ; 
then  they  tore  up  the  whipping-post,  pulled  down  the  pil 
lory,  and  they  followed,  and  I  left  them  blazing  away 
among  the  jail  timbers.  It  hasn't  rained  for  six  weeks, 
and  the  buildings  were  dry  as  tinder,  and  burnt  like  a  heap 
of  shavings.  Heaven  save  me  from  such  another  sight ! 
Rose  ran  away  from  our  house  yesterday.  Father  sent 
me  down,  and  said  I  must  bring  her  back,  and  mother 
sent  word  for  Margaret  and  Nimrod  to  come  right  up." 

"  It  is  beginning  to  rain,"   said  Sibyl,  "  and  you  can't 
go  to-night." 

The  storm,  which  had  been  threatening  through  the  day 
and  evening,  broke  at  last ;  it  rained  violently,  and  if  this 
interrupted  the  plans  of  the  party,  it  also  served  to  check 
the  farther  progress  of  the  fire.  Regarding  the  origin  of 
the  last,  it  appeared,  as  the  Indian  intimated,  that  Hash, 
in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  saturated  with  liquor,  went 
with  his  pipe  into  the  woods.  Relapsing  into  stupor,  his 
pipe  fell  from  his  mouth,  and  the  fire  was  set.  The  Indian 
crossing  the  forest  from  the  scene  of  execution,  supplied 
materials  for  its  continuance  arid  spread.  A  long  autum 
nal  drought,  a  blasted  vegetation,  a  thick  coat  of  new-fallen 
leaves,  heaps  of  dry  brush  and  a  strong  breeze  bore  for 
ward  the  result  to  the  final  catastrophe.  However  the 
action  either  of  the  Indian  or  of  Hash  shall  be  estimated, 
the  former  was  beyond  the  reach  of  inquisition ;  and  the 
latter,  Sibyl  had  the  strength  to  rescue  from  personal  danger, 
and  the  tact  to  preserve  from  detection  by  consigning  the 
secret  of  the  affair  to  her  own  breast,  and  that  of  those 
•whom  she  deemed  trustworthy  to  receive  it. 


156  MARGARET. 

They  fared  the  night  at  Sibyl's  as  they  best  could,  and 
the  next  day  Rufus  and  Rose,  Nimrod  and  Margaret,  rode 
to  the  Ledge,  a  distance,  as  we  have  had  occasion  to  ob 
serve,  of  six  or  seven  miles.  At  Mr.  Palmer's  Margaret 
and  her  friends  were  received  with  a  liberal  hospitality  and 
unaffected  good  will.  The  family  remembered  the  service 
she  had  done  for  them  in  former  years,  and  Mistress 
Palmer  made  a  deliberate  work  of  endeavoring  to  divert 
her  mind  by  sitting  down,  with  her  box  of  snuff  open  in 
her  left  hand,  and  explaining  with  her  right  how  they  had 
been  able  to  bring  the  water  directly  into  the  house,  and 
how  Mr.  Palmer  had  made  a  new  marble  sink,  and  Rufus 
had  carved  a  marble  stem,  with  a  sheep's  head,  from  the 
mouth  of  which  a  living  stream  perpetually  flowed.  Rod 
erick,  her  oldest  son,  had  married  Bethiah  Weeks,  joined 
the  "  Dunwich  Genessee  Company,"  and  gone  to  the 
West,  where  also  Alexander  was  about  to  follow.  Rufus, 
his  mother  declared,  was  a  good  boy,  and  said  she  believed 
he  had  great  parts ;  in  proof  of  which  assertion,  as  well  as 
for  the  entertainment  of  Margaret,  he  was  ordered  to  show 
the  toys  he  had  made,  consisting  of  sundry  vases,  images, 
imitations  of  flowers  and  trees,  done  in  marble.  At  the 
same  time  Margaret  could  not  avoid  associating  and  con 
trasting  that  first  prosperous  adventure  of  her  childhood 
with  her  present  mournful  condition. 

In  addition  to  any  claims  on  their  kindness  which  the 
family  of  Mr.  Palmer  might  have  felt  disposed  to  reim 
burse,  there  existed  other  grounds  for  the  friendliness  of 
the  parties.  Nimrod  and  Rhody,  between  whom  an  at 
tachment  and  quasi  troth-plight  had  for  a  long  time  sub 
sisted,  were  expecting  to  marry  ;  indeed,  their  nuptials  had 
been  assigned  to  the  present  season.  In  the  absence  of 
his  other  sons,  Mr.  Palmer  proposed  to  Nimrod  if  he 


SHADES   AND    DARKNESS.  157 

would  forswear  his  errant  habits  and  set  himself  to  steady 
labor,  he  should  have  a  share  in  his  farm,  and  a  home  in 
his  house.  He  himself  was  a  good  deal  occupied  at  the 
quarry,  and  Rufus,  he  said,  was  always  dropping  the 
plough  and  running  after  the  mallet.  But  in  the  recent 
calamity  which  had  befallen  his  family,  Nimrod  said  he 
had  given  up  all  thoughts  of  marriage  for  the  present,  and 
avowed  a  determination  to  wait  at  least  until  Spring ;  in 
addition,  for  reasons  which  did  not  transpire,  he  declared 
that  it  had  become  unexpectedly  necessary  for  him  to  go  to 
the  Bay  before  that  event,  and  take  Margaret  with  him. 

When  Rose  had  Margaret  alone,  she  recited  her  history 
from  the  night  of  the  Husking  Bee.  She  said  she  and 
Nimrod  wandered  in  the  woods  one  or  two  days,  that  they 
at  last  went  to  Mr.  Palmer's,  where  she  was  taken  sick, 
and  recovered  on  the  eve  of  Chilion's  death,  and  that  only 
so  far  as  enabled  her  to  adopt  some  desperate  resolution 
for  his  delivery  ;  that  she  stole  away  from  the  house  and 
made  all  haste  to  town.  Borne  out  from  the  prison  by 
Nimrod,  she  was  carried  to  Sibyl's,  where  they  kept  her 
till  the  crisis  was  over. 

Margaret  divulged  Chilion's  last  wishes,  and  was  solicit 
ous  for  their  accomplishment.  In  the  prosecution  of  this 
object,  events  fell  out  in  a  manner  she  could  not  have 
anticipated.  Rufus  volunteered  to  furnish  the  gravestone  ; 
Mr.  Palmer  said  he  would  become  surety  to  Mr.  Smith  for 
the  liabilities  of  Pluck  until  Nimrod  returned  from  his  jaunt, 
so  that  the  family  might  again  be  gathered  in  their  home. 
Nimrod  was  despatched  on  the  other  errands.  The  lady's  slip 
per  he  carried  to  Miss  Morgridge ;  Chilion's  boat  was  bought 
by  Sibyl  Radnev,  who  seemed  desirous  to  have  it  preserved 
for  the  use  of  the  family.  What  with  the  baskets  and  the 
money  in  the  chest,  all  debts  were  paid  without  disposing  of 

VOL.  II.  14 


158  MARGARET. 

the  violin,  which  was  retained  as  a  keepsake.  The  duty  at 
Mr.  Smith's  Margaret  found  it  more  difficult  to  perform ; 
and  what  they  told  her  of  the  state  of  that  family  at  length 
decided  her  to  postpone  the  task  until  time  should  mod 
erate  their  grief,  or  give  her  sufficientstrength  of  spirit 
to  encounter  it. 

Preparations  for  their  intended  journey  were  now  all  that 
remained  to  be  done,  and  these  the  advancing  season,  not 
less  than  certain  concealed  motives  of  Nimrod,  admonished 
them  to  accelerate.  Rose  could  not  be  detached  from 
Margaret,  and  she  too  must  go,  at  whatever  rate.  But  for 
this  also  a  means  was  provided,  the  nature  of  which  we 
will  disclose.  The  Widow  Wright,  as  perhaps  is  well 
known,  had  long  cherished  fond  expectations  of  her  son 
Obed ;  and  not  less  of  her  business,  and,  we  might 
reasonably  add,  of  Margaret.  Whether  she  aspired  to 
riches  or  fame,  let  those  answer  who  can  best  judge  ;  but 
of  this  we  are  certain,  she  desired  to  experiment  with  her 
commodities  in  a  larger  theatre  than  Livingston  and  its 
neighborhood  afforded ;  and  when  she  learned  the  plans 
of  Margaret  and  the  wishes  of  Rose,  she  eagerly  sought  the 
privilege  of  joining  with  them  Obed  and  his  horse  Tim, — 
an  arrangement  that  could  not  but  prove  satisfactory  on  all 
sides,  since  it  provided  a  method  of  conveyance  for  Rose 
without  additional  cost.  Whether  any  other  design  crept 
into  the  lady's  mind  than  to  make  Obed  acquainted  with  the 
world,  and  the  world  acquainted  with  her  art,  one  would  not 
hesitate  to  guess,  when  it  is  related  that  she  gave  her  son 
explicit  and  repeated  instructions  to  watch  with  all  dili 
gence  and  scrupulousness  the  movements  of  Margaret. 

To  the  new  object  Margaret  and  Rose  addressed  them 
selves  with  diligence,  and  we  may  imagine  without  reluc 
tance.  They  had  no  wish  to  remain  on  the  hands  of  the 


SHADES    AND    DARKNESS.  159 

Palmers,  however  generous  or  well  affectioned  might  be 
the  disposition  of  that  family.  They  were  glad  to  escape  the 
deep,  and  as  it  would  seem  ineffaceable  gloom  that  now  not 
only  shrouded  the  Pond  but  penetrated  the  whole  town.  In 
a  fresh  atmosphere  they  could  find  a  breathing-place  for 
their  stifled  hearts,  and  among  novel  scenes  they  might  be 
diverted  from  those  associations  that  were  sapping  the 
foundations  of  existence  itself. 

NOTE. — We  have  been  chided  for  carrying  the  story  of  Chilion  to 
so  sad  a  termination.  "  Shocking ! "  is  the  epithet  applied  to  such 
management  and  such  results.  There  is  an  illusion  here.  Nine 
tenths  of  executions  are  equally  shocking.  The  mistake  is  this,  our 
readers  look  at  Chilion  from  the  Margaret  side,  and  his  home  side, 
and  his  own  heart's  side ;  as  if  every  man  that  is  hung  had  not  a 
Margaret  side,  a  home  side,  and  his  own  heart  side !  Chilion  was 
looked  at  by  those  concerned  in  effecting  what  befell  him  from  the 
world  side,  the  law  side,  the  Deacon  Hadlock  side,  and  the  side  of 
public  sentiment  in  general.  It  was  utterly  impossible  for  him  to 
escape  extremest  issues.  This  is  the  way  men  are  always  hung. 
There  would  be  no  hangings  if  suspected  individuals  were  to  be  re 
garded  in  the  light  in  which  some  tender-hearted  persons  have  allowed 
themselves  to  regard  Chilion.  Would  we  create  a  prejudice  against 
the  law  of  capital  punishment?  As  faithful  chroniclers  of  character 
and  events,  we  do  not  hold  ourselves  responsible  for  every  possible 
inference  that  may  be  drawn  from  our  narrative.  We  have  not  been 
unjust  to  the  times  in  which  Chilion  lived,  but,  as  to  the  matter  in 
hand,  have  rather  underdrawn  than  overdrawn  the  prevailing  man 
ners  and  feeling. 


160  MARGARET. 


CHAPTER  XL 

MARGARET    GOES    TO    THE    BAY. 

WHEN  all  things  were  ready,  one  cool  but  pleasant 
morning  in  the  early  part  of  November  they  took  their 
final  start  from  the  Widow  Wright's, — Obed  and  Rose  on 
Tim,  a  thick -set  animal  of  small  stature,  who  in  addition  to 
his  load  bore  a  pair  of  large  panniers,  stocked  with  the 
Leech's  simples  and  compounds ;  Nimrod  with  Margaret, 
on  a  horse  of  his  own,  and  one  in  the  estimation  of  his 
master,  who  piqued  himself  on  being  a  judge  of  such 
things,  of  admirable  proportions  and  other  desirable 
qualities.  Margaret  passed  her  old  home,  now  deserted 
and  dead,  with  some  sensation.  She  descended  the  De 
lectable  Way  and  the  Brandon  Road  with  quite  a  com 
plexity  of  emotions,  and  came  to  the  Burial  Ground,  where 
they  stopped  to  shed  a  silent  tear  on  Chilion's  grave. 
Halting  at  the  Widow  Small's  to  inquire  after  the  Master, 
that  gentleman  himself  appeared  at  the  door  in  a  loose 
gown  and  skull  cap,  and  wearing  a  look  of  seated  sickness 
and  sorrow.  He  seemed  quite  overcome  at  seeing  Mar 
garet.  "  Vale,  vale,  eternumque  vale,  O  mihi  me  disci- 
pula  carior !  "  was  all  he  could  say,  and  covering  his  eyes 
with  his  red  bandanna  handkerchief,  withdrew. 

The  Green  presented  a  melancholy  aspect,  the  entire 
West  side  was  in  ruins  ;  the  church  lay  smouldering  in  its 
own  ashes ;  what  had  been  a  beautiful  grove,  sweeping 
down  the  acclivities  on  the  North,  was  now  a  waste  of  half- 
devoured  trees,  charred  stumps,  roots  unearthed,  lean  and 


MARGARET    GOES    TO    THE    BAT.  161 

hollow,  a  soil  of  sackcloth  gray,  as  if  a  black  winter  had 
suddenly  set  in.  They  entered  the  East  Street,  and  made 
their  last  call  at  Deacon  RamsdilFs.  The  old  man  gave 
Margaret  a  letter,  superscribed  "  Mrs.  Pamela  Wiswall." 
" It's  for  sister  Pamela,"  said  he  ;  "I  thought  it  might  do 
you  some  good.  She  is  a  good-hearted  critter  as  ever 
lived,  if  she  is  my  sister.  I  don't  know  where  she  is  now ; 
I  havn't  been  to  the  Bay  since  the  War,  and  things  have 
altered  some  since  then,  I  suppose.  She  used  to  keep 
lodgings  next  door  to  Deacon  bmiley's  auction  room,  a 
little  over  against  the  Three  Doves,  and  would  be  glad  to 
have  you  put  up  there.  There  are  people  enough  there 
that  know  her,  —  ask  for  the  Widow  Wizzle,  and  any  body 
will  tell  you  where  she  lives.  I  can't  blame  you  for  want 
ing  to  get  away.  When  our  Jessie  died  we  thought  we 
should  have  to  pull  up  stakes.  Freelove  could'nt  bear  to 
make  the  bed  up  where  she  died,  and  I  had  to  do  it.  I 
guess  she  didn't  go  into  the  room  full  a  month.  I  had  to 
put  off  Jessie's  sheep  ;  she  had  a  cosset  that  used  to  follow 
her.  Freelove  couldn't  bear  the  sight  of  it.  We  are  all 
down,  on  the  Green.  People  don't  know  what  to  do.  But 
old  sward  wants  turning  under  once  in  a  while,  and  if  land 
lies  fallow  a  year  or  so  it  don't  hurt.  The  Lord  knows 
what  is  best  for  us.  We  had  preaching  in  the  Town  Hall 
last  Lord's  Day,  and  I  guess  there  wasn't  a  dry  eye  there. 
Good-by,  Molly,  God  bless  you  all." 

They  continued  on  the  East  Street,  crossed  the  river,  and 
entered  the  region  beyond.  The  sun  which  has  shone 
upon  all  ages  and  countries  alike,  and  dispenses  its  equal 
ministrations  of  life,  hope  and  joy  to  every  suffering  heart 
on  this  many-peopled  globe,  shone  brightly  upon  them ;  the 
atmosphere  was  clear,  fresh  and  invigorating  ;  the  scream 
of  the  redhammer,  the  brown  herbage,  the  denuded  forest, 
14* 


162  MARGARET. 

harmonized  with  their  feelings.  Margaret  had  never  been 
beyond  the  river  before.  Looking  back  she  beheld  v\  hat 
had  formerly  been  esteemed  a  beautiful  prospect,  the  vil 
lage,  its  environs,  the  rising  grounds  beyond,  and,  crown 
ing  dll,  the  Indian's  Head  ;  but  it  suggested  at  the  present 
moment  other  feelings  than  those  of  gratification  and 
delight,  and  she  was  not  sorry  to  find  herself  rapidly 
receding  from  Livingston. 

Touching  the  objects  of  this  sudden  excursion  Margaret 
and  Rose  were  alike  ignorant  and  indifferent ;  and  they 
went  on  only  anxious  to  be  a-going.  Margaret  had  been 
able  to  procure  suitable  clothing ;  she  wore  a  black  beaver 
hat  and  dress  of  cambleteen.  In  her  hair  was  fastened 
the  Indian's  gift,  an  aigrette  of  white  heron's  feathers. 
Rose  had  on  her  blue  silk  bonnet  and  a  queens-stuff  habit 
of  the  same  color.  In  Nimrod  appeared  the  transition 
from  the  old  style  to  the  new.  He  wore  a  round-rimmed 
hat,  straight-bodied  coat  with  large  pewter  buttons,  and  a 
pair  of  overalls  buttoning  from  the  hip  to  the  ankle.  He 
was  more  dressed  than  usual,  and  the  caparrson  of  his 
horse  corresponded  with,  the  elegance  of  that  animal  ;  cir 
cumstances  denoting  rather  the  weakness  of  Nirarod  than 
any  pecuniary  ability.  Obed  bore  up  the  olden  time,  and 
showed  his  respect  for  the  memory  of  his  father  and  the 
purse  of  his  mother,  in  his  tattered  cocked  hat,  broad 
flapped  drab  coat,  leather  breeches  and  silver  buckles.  His 
red  hair  was  powdered  and  queued,  and  on  his  nose  were 
his  brass-bowed  bridge  spectacles. 

The  habits  of  Tim,  who  resented  all  approach  of  stran 
gers,  might  have  interrupted  the  sociability  of  the  company, 
or  even  proved  hazardous  to  life  or  limb,  unless  Nimrod 
had  suggested  to  Obed  a  method  of  prevention,  which  the 
latter  executed  by  cutting  squares  from  the  sides  of  his  hat, 


MARGARET    GOES    TO    THE    BAT.  163 

and  fastening  them  for  blinders  to  the  head-stall ;  a  step 
the  frugal  youth  had  been  slow  to  undertake,  save  that  his 
mother  promised  him  a  new  hat  on  conditions  of  fidelity  and 
success  in  this  expedition.  This  movement  served  another 
end,  that  Nimrod  had  not  overlooked  ;  it  startled  the  gloom 
of  Margaret  and  Rose,  whose  smiles  having  long  been 
worried  by  the  contrast  of  the  parties,  their  horses  and 
accoutrements,  were  at  length  provoked  to  open  laughter, 
in  which  neither  the  finesse  of  Nimrod  nor  the  habitual 
dignity  of  Obed  allowed  those  gentlemen  to  join.  Mar 
garet  sometime  in  the  course  of  her  life  had  said  she  could 
manage  Tim  as  well  as  his  master.  To  test  this,  Nimrod 
proposed  that  she  should  touch  the  animal.  She  called 
his  name  familiarly,  as  she  must  have  often  done  before, 
and  he  suffered  her  to  lay  hands  upon  him  and  stroke  his 
sides,  with  the  docility  of  a  cat.  But  whenever  Nimrod 
approached,  the  ears  of  the  beast  fell,  his  heels  rose,  and 
the  bold  man  was  glad  to  retreat. 

Sometimes  the  girls  walked  long  distances.  Again  Nira- 
rod,  who  knew  the  whole  region  by  heart,  led  them  by  paths 
that  afforded  the  best  views  of  the  country  and  the  towns. 
So  in  various  ways,  with  a  generous  if  not  the  most  discreet 
attention,  he  contrived  to  relieve  the  monotony  of  the  ride 
and  move  their  spirits,  which  he  said  were  binding,  and  the 
renovation  of  which  he  declared  was  one  purpose  of  the 
journey.  It  was  not  difficult  to  observe  that  in  all  this  Nim~ 
rod  consulted  what  was  due  to  his  own  state  of  feeling  also, 
and  the  girls  were  sometimes  obliged  to  recall  him  from 
reveries  into  which  the  scenes  of  the  last  month  might  have 
plunged  one  even  more  light-minded  than  himself. 

As  regards  the  region  they  traversed,  in  some  of  its  as 
pects,  if  any  one  is  curious  to  compare  former  times  with 
the  present,  he  might  be  guided  in  his  inquiries  by  a  passage 


164  MARGARET. 

from  the  letters  of  Wilson,  the  ornithologist,  who  was  over 
the  same  ground  a  short  time  afterwards.  "  Every  where," 
says  he,  "  1  found  school-houses  ruinous  and  deserted ;  the 
taverns  dirty,  and  filled  with  loungers  brawling  about  poli 
tics  and  lawsuits ;  the  people  idle  and  lazy." 

They  arrived  at  Hartford  that  evening,  where  Nimrod 
declared  he  had  business  of  express  nature,  and  Obed  was 
desirous  of  finding  a  market.  They  left  the  next  morning, 
Obed  in  fine  humor  since  he  had  been  able  to  turn  some 
of  his  goods  for  a  new  hat.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth 
day,  having  accomplished  a  journey  wrhich  can  now  be 
made  in  almost  as  many  hours,  they  arrived  in  the  suburbs 
of  Boston,  at  a  place  then,  and  we  believe  now,  known  as 
Old  Cambridge.  Here,  if  they  had  not  intended  to  stop, 
their  course  must  have  been  arrested  by  a  great  swell  of 
people,  whom  some  high  excitement  had  drawn  together. 

"  Ho,  Nim,"  cried  a  burly  fellow  in  a  tarpawling  and 
blue  jacket,  evidently  recognizing  an  old  acquaintance. 
"  Heave  to,  discharge  your  deck  load,  and  make  sail  in  com 
pany.  We  are  going  to  have  a  pull-all-together  up  here." 

"  How  fares  ye,  Hart  ?  "  said  another.  "  You  liked  to 
be  late  at  the  feast.  Always  expect  you  when  any  thing  is 
going  on.  Didn't  see  you  at  Plimbury  Roads.  Turn  the 
ladies  in,  warm  your  nose  with  Porter's  flip-dog,  and  come. 
Great  stakes.  Old  Hyflyer  himself,  out  of  Antelope; 
grandam,  Earl  of  Godolphin's  Arabian." 

"  Well,"  said  Nimrod,  u  if  you  have  got  any  thing  here 
equal  to  Tartar,  nephew  to  the  late  Hyder  Ali,  arid  first 
cousin  to  Tippoo  Saib,  I  should  like  to  be  notified,  that's 
all." 

"  My  old  fellow,"  said  one,  addressing  Obed,  "  don't  you 
want  to  see  the  fun  ?  Four  horses,  one  greased  pole  to 


JOURNEY   TO    BOSTON.  165 

climb,  two  sheared  pigs  to  catch,  and  a  silver  punch  bowl 
the  prize.  It  will  do  your  old  heart  good  to  see  it." 

Nimrod,  subject  to  a  vacillation  of  spirit  and  passion  for 
novelty  that  had  both  checkered  and  vitiated  his  life,  might 
without  surprise  to  the  girls  have  been  tempted  by  these 
several  baits,  and  gone  off  with  the  crowd,  even  if  he  had 
anticipated  nothing  of  the  sort  and  had  not  had  these  very 
objects  in  mind  when  he  left  home.  However  this  might 
be,  he  kept  his  own  counsels,  told  the  girls  he  should  soon 
be  back,  threw  his  purse  to  Margaret,  intimating  there 
were  pickpockets  among  the  people,  had  them  shown  to 
the  parlor  of  the  inn,  and  rode  off.  Obed  also,  whose 
ardor  was  inspired  by  the  prospect  of  trade,  soon  followed. 

Margaret  and  Rose,  left  to  themselves,  occupied  the  hour 
looking  from  the  windows  on  the  world  about  them.  They 
went  into  the  street,  walked  through  the  college  grounds, 
and  gazed  at  the  buildings  and  the  students.  The  day  was 
nearly  spent,  people  returned  from  the  races,  the  tavern  rang 
with  their  noise  aud  revels.  But  Nimrod  and  Obed  did  not 
appear.  The  girls  grew  alarmed ;  they  heard  reports 
from  the  race,  including  intimations  of  brawls  and  consta 
bles.  Pushing  their  inquiries,  they  learned  that  two  stran 
gers  had  fallen  in  a  drunken  dispute,  done  some  mischief, 
and  been  carried  to  prison.  They  waited  a  while  till  there 
could  be  no  doubt  the  delinquents  were  Nimrod  and  Obed. 

It  seemed  best,  on  the  whole,  to  seek  out  the  sister  of 
Deacon  Ramsdill  and  throw  themselves  on  a  so  well  com 
mended  kindness  and  direction  in  this  perplexed  aspect  of 
things  ;  so  they  started  at  once  for  the  city.  A  three  miles* 
walk  lay  before  them,  but  the  habits  of  Margaret  and 
spirit  of  Rose  were  equal  to  it.  Night  overtook  them  ere 
they  reached  the  bridge.  The  few  forlorn  lamps  that 
hovered  over  that  structure  looked  like  an  array  of 


166  MARGARET. 

protecting  or  defying  stars,  according  as  their  moods 
should  work.  The  dim  outline  of  the  State  House  they 
mistook  for  a  mountain.  As  they  hurried  on  a  voice 
hailed  them,  "  Toll,  Ma'ams,  toll."  They  avowed  their 
ignorance,  and  asked  how  much.  "  Tuppence,  tuppence 
a  head."  While  Rose  was  satisfying  this  voice,  which  like 
death  seizes  upon  all,  Margaret  asked,  "Where  are  we 
now  ?  "  "  At  Pest  House  Pint,"  replied  the  man  ;  rather 
shuddering  intelligence.  Margaret  asked,  "Where  does 
the  Widow  Wizzle  live  ?  "  "I  don't  know,  but  you  can 
find  out  up  the  way,"  rejoined  the  man.  They  pursued 
their  course  along  Cambridge  Street,  through  what  was 
little  better  than  a  morass,  and  scantily  furnished  with 
lamps  that  shone  like  fireflies,  in  a  swamp.  "  Can  you  tell 
us  where  the  Widow  Wizzle  lives  ?  "  said  they,  applying  to 
an  old  man  whom  they  next  encountered.  "  Go  by 
Lynde's  Paster,  down  Queen's,  turn  Marlbro,  then  follow 
your  nose  till  you  come  to  it,"  he  answered,  and  disap 
peared  down  a  cellar. 

They  might  reasonably  be  expected  to  be  bewildered. 
They  had  anticipated  finding  the  house  of  the  lady  in 
question  without  difficulty.  Their  hearts  almost  sunk.  At 
last  they  stopped  by  a  lamp-post,  planting  themselves 
against  it,  as  if  to  make  a  desperate  sortie  on  the  next 
passer-by,  which  chanced  to  be  a  young  man.  "  Can  you 
tell  us,  sir,  where  the  Widow  Wizzle  lives  ?  "  said  they, 
the  light  dropping  full  in  their  faces,  and  revealing  counte^ 
nances  flushed  with  earnestness.  "  I  am  going  partly  in 
that  direction,"  replied  the  man,  "  and  if  you  will  follow 
me,  I  think  I  can  set  you  on  the  right  track."  They  went 
on  some  distance,  by  one  or  two  turns,  and  through  two  or 
three  lanes,  when  stopping  at  a  dark  corner  their  guide, 
saying  that  business  drew  him  in  another  quarter,  pointed 


BOSTON.  167 

out  the  course  they  should  pursue.  They  were  overtaken 
by  another  man,  who,  perceiving  what  they  wanted,  ob 
served  that  his  own  route  lay  that  way,  and  he  would  lead 
them  to  the  dwelling  in  question.  Thankfully  they  pressed 
forwards  till  they  came  to  a  large  house,  with  a  deep  front 
yard  and  an  ornamented  fence,  and  pleasantly  lighted. 
"This,"  said  their  escort,  "is  Mrs.  Wiswall's;"  and, 
opening  the  gate,  he  departed.  By  a  paved  walk,  adorned 
with  shrubbery  and  two  or  three  terraces  ascended  by  stone 
steps,  they  reached  the  door,  where  they  met  an  elderly, 
motherly-looking  woman,  who,  as  soon  as  the  girls  an 
nounced  themselves  and  delivered  the  letter,  greeted  them 
very  cordially. 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  parlor  and  Mrs.  Wiswall 
had  read  the  letter,  she  said,  "  It  is  melancholy  indeed. 
The  newspapers  gave  us  some  account  of  what  had 
happened  in  Livingston,  but  I  had  no  idea  it  was  so  bad. 
Brother  Simeon  seems  greatly  distressed.  And  you  were 
in  it  all,  and  part  of  it !  How  dismal  is  your  situation  ! 
I  will  do  what  I  can  to  make  you  comfortable  and  happy. 
You  must  feel  at  home  with  me." 

A  bright  fire  and  good  cup  of  tea,  with  a  soft  bed  and 
sound  sleep,  carried  our  weary  ones  through  the  night  into 
the  next  morning,  renovated  in  body  and  calmed  in  feeling. 

To  their  first  solicitude  as  to  what  had  become  of  Nimrod 
and  Obed,  their  kind  hostess  replied,  telling  them  not  to  be 
troubled,  and  that  she  would  despatch  a  servant  to  make 
instant  and  all  needful  inquiry. 

They  were  introduced  to  two  young  ladies,  Bertha, 
daughter  of  Mrs.  Wiswall,  and  Avice,  a  boarder,  who 
appeared  amiable  and  intelligent. 

They  had  leisure  to  look  about  them,  nor  were  there 
wanting  objects  to  engage  attention.  The  parlor  offered  to 


168  MARGARET. 

their  eye  an  aspect  of  splendor  and  elaborate  embellishment, 
as  it  might  to  some  of  our  readers  that  of  antiquity  and  an 
obsolete  taste.  Wainscotted  walls  bore  fading  vestiges  of 
that  passion  for  royalty  and  blood  possessed  by  some  of  our 
ancestors,  and  the  tarnished  gilt  of  a  lion's  head  was  in 
good  keeping  with  his  broken  tail.  Fluted  pilasters 
sustained  on  burnished  capitals  a  heavy  frieze,  in  which 
deer  sported  among  flowers.  The  ceiling  was  divided  by 
whisks  of  flowers,  with  a  margin  of  honeysuckles.  On 
either  side  of  the  chimney  stood  marble  columns  once  the 
trunk  of  busts,  now  surmounted  by  vases  of  living  herbage. 
Faded  French  curtains  festooned  the  windows.  There 
were  Dutch  chairs  in  the  room,  with  tall  backs  and  black 
leather  cushions,  embroidered  in  red  and  blue  tent-stitch, 
and  a  dark  oval  mahogany  table,  with  raised  and  chased 
rim,  loaded  with  books.  In  a  back  parlor,  entered  by 
a  broad  arch,  they  saw  a  tessellated  floor,  and  through 
the  windows  appeared  an  extensive  garden,  with  a  decay 
ing  barn,  an  old  Turkish  summer-house,  and  vines  trained 
on  high  walls. 

"  Where  are  the  Three  Doves  ?  "  inquired  Margaret. 
"  That  is  gone  long  ago,"  replied  Mrs.  Wiswall.  "  New 
houses  occupy  its  place.  Boston  is  becoming  a  great  city  ; 
nothing  old  remains  long.  We  have  more  than  twenty 
thousand  inhabitants.  Bertha,  Avice,  show  Margaret  and 
Rose  your  books.  They  both  call  me  mother,  and  you 
shall  too  ;  that  is,  if  you  are  the  good  girls  Simeon  says 
you  are."  "  There  are  the  Adventures  of  Neoptolemus, 
The  Fatal  Connexion,  and  Lord  Ainsworth,"  said  Bertha. 
"You  have  read  The  Girl  of  Spirit?"  "No,"  replied 
Margaret.  "  The  Fair  Maid  of  the  Inn  ?  "  "  No."  "  I 
think  she  would  like  the  Marriage  of  Belfegar,"  observed 
Avice,  "  and  the  Curious  Impertinent."  "  The  Loves  of 


BOSTON.  169 

Osmund  and  Duraxa  are  perfectly  bewitching,"  rejoined 
Bertha.  There  were  books  enough,  at  all  events,  to  serve 
them  either  in  the  way  of  selection  or  perusal  for  a  long 
while. 

For  several  days  Mrs.  Wiswall  said  she  could  gather  no 
intelligence  of  their  friends,  and  our  pilgrims  resigned 
themselves  as  well  as  they  could  to  their  lot.  They  spent 
most  of  the  time  alone  together,  and  for  the  most  part  in 
their  own  chamber.  Two  or  three  gentlemen  boarding 
there  appeared  at  the  dinner  table,  but  they  liked  their 
own  society  better  than  any  other,  and  this  preference  was 
not  molested.  They  watched  the  street  and  beheld  ladies  in 
black  beaver  and  purple  tiffany  dresses,  and  melon-shaped 
cupola-crowned  hats,  short  cloaks  with  hoods  squabbing  be 
hind,  known  as  cardinals  ;  pink  satin,  and  yellow  brocade 
shoes,  supported  on  clogs  and  pattens  ;  gentlemen  in  Suwar- 
row  boots  and  scarlet  overcoats ;  —  and  altogether  Boston 
seemed  to  them  a  gay  place,  and  they  thought  everybody  in 
it  was  happy. 

"  You  must  try  and  amuse  your  sisters,"  said  Mrs. 
Wiswall  to  her  daughters.  "  Avice,  Bertha,  you  can  show 
them  what  there  is  in  the  city,  the  Museum,  the  Circus,  or 
something  of  the  kind." 

They  were  taken  to  the  Museum  at  the  head  of  the 
Mall,  near  the  Almshouse,  over  a  cabinet  shop,  inthe  centre 
of  what  is  Park  Street  Church.  They  saw  young  ladies  in 
wax,  the  guillotine,  the  assassination  of  Marat,  alligators,  &c., 
and  were  regaled  with  the  musical  clocks.  Their  next 
excursion  was  to  the  Circus  in  West  Boston  ;  the  singular 
docility  of  the  horses,  the  extraordinary  feats  of  the  men, 
the  grotesque  wit  and  manners  of  the  clown,  afforded  them 
occasion  for  wonder  and  a  smile.  Margaret  wrote  to  Dea 
con  Ramsdill  she  was  more  happy  than  she  could  have 

TOL.  II.  15 


170  MARGARET. 

foreseen,   and  applauded  the  benevolent  conduct  of  his 
sister. 

"  I  guess  you  must  go  to  the  Theatre  to-night,"  said  Mrs. 
Wiswall.  "I  don't  know  of  what  party  you  are.  We 
have  a  Federal  house  and  an  anti-Federal."  "  We  are  of 
no  party  at  all,"  said  Rose.  "  It  is  all  one  to  us."  "  It  is 
just  so  with  me,"  said  the  lady.  u  How  does  brother  Sim 
eon  stand  now  ?  "  "  He  thinks  there  is  some  good  on  both 
sides,"  replied  Margaret.  "  He  does  not  approve  the  ex 
cesses  of  either."  "  That's  Sim  all  over,"  responded  Mrs. 
Wiswall.  "  But  at  the  Federal  they  have — what  is  it, 
girls  ?  "  "  Pizarro,"  replied  Bertha.  "  The  Haymarket 
brings  out  The  Castle  of  Almunecar."  "  Yes,"  added  the 
lady,  "  the  dungeons,  and  strange  noises  and  sights."  "  I 
would  rather  see  Pizarro,"  said  Margaret.  "  I  prefer  the 
Black  Castle,"  said  Rose.  "  That  is  it,"  said  Mrs.  Wis 
wall.  "  Both  be  suited,  one  go  to  one,  the  other  to  the 
other."  "  We  cannot  be  separated,  Mrs.  Wiswall,"  replied 
Margaret.  "  I  want  to  go  where  Rose  does." 

To  the  Haymarket  they  went,  near  the  south  end  of  the 
Mall,  and  were  shown  to  a  box  not  very  remote  from  the 
stage.  The  piece  that  had  been  the  subject  of  discussion, 
sombre  in  its  scenes,  terrific  in  its  imagery,  the  storm  at 
sea,  the  wreck,  grim  towers,  dark  chambers,  apparitions, 
hollow  voices,  Rose  declared  suited  her  exactly.  "It  is 
myself,"  she  said  to  Margaret.  "  But  I  suppose  you  see  a 
smooth  haven,  and  the  light  of  true  life  coming  of  it  all." 
"  It  has  all  been  in  me,"  replied  Margaret,  "  only  if  it  is 
not  of  me,  I  shall  be  glad."  But  surprise  combined  with 
other  reflections  when  they  beheld  their  hostess's  daughter, 
Bertha,  moving  amid  the  terrors  of  the  play.  And  in  the 
pantomine  that  composed  the  afterpiece,  they  again  saw 
her  as  Joan,  and  Avice  as  Columbine,  along  with  Harle- 


AT    THE    THEATRE.  171 

quin  and  Punch,  and  they  thought  they  detected  the  fea 
tures  of  one  of  the  gentleman  boarders  under  the  cap  of 
Scaramouch.  But  the  delight  mingled  with  a  variety  of 
sensations  this  piece  afforded  Margaret  was  such  she  forgot 
every  thing  else  while  she  saw  represented  the  parts,  char 
acters,  buffooneries,  dresses  and  forms,  that  constituted  a 
lively  part  of  her  father's  drunken  vagaries,  and  had  dis 
closed  to  her  eye  the  origin  of  a  certain  description  of  allu 
sion  and  sentiment  that  predominated  in  Master  Elliman, 
and  which  she  never  before  understood. 

They  spoke  to  Mrs.  Wiswall  of  seeing  her  daughter  on 
the  stage.  "  I  suppose  you  think  it  very  bad,"  she  replied. 
"  O,  no,"  said  Rose,  "  I  only  wished  I  was  there,  and  that  I 
could  plunge  into  the  darkness  with  her."  "My  good 
brother  the  Deacon  would  probably  be  opposed  to  it."  "  I 
never  heard  him  speak  of  it,"  replied  Margaret,  "  nor 
did  any  one  ever  say  any  thing  to  me  on  the  subject." 
"  Bertha,"  continued  the  lady,  "  took  a  passion  for  the 
stage,  and  I  humored  her  in  it.  There  is  little  that  she 
can  do,  poor  child;  and  she  seems  pleased  with  this. 
Some  of  our  gentlemen  are  interested  there,  and  they  help 
her  what  they  can.  Avice  plays  with  them  sometimes." 
"  How  I  wish  I  could  join  them,"  said  Rose.  "  Should 
you  like  to?"  asked  the  lady.  "Yes,  better  than  any 
thing  else."  "  Bertha,  here,  Miss  Elphiston  says  she 
should  like  to  have  a  part  in  the  play.  I  am  sure  I  would 
not  oppose  the  young  lady's  feelings."  "  We  want  some 
one  for  Lady-in-waiting  to  Lady  Teazle,  in  the  School  for 
Scandal ;  it  is  to  be  brought  on  next  week,"  replied 
Bertha.  "  I  don't  care  what  it  is,"  said  Rose  ;  "  though 
I  should  prefer  the  Black  Castle."  "  That  is  to  be  repeated 
in  a  fortnight,  and  perhaps  they  will  give  you  a  chance  in 
it,"  rejoined  Bertha. 


172  MARGARET. 

Sunday  came  ;  Margaret  and  Rose  were  listening  to  the 
chime  of  bells,  and  watching  the  passers-by.  "  I  am  a  deal 
troubled  with  the  gout,"  said  Mrs.  Wiswall,  "  and  don't  get 
out  to  meeting  very  often.  The  girls  were  so  late  at 
the  rehearsal,  they  are  not  up  yet.  I  suppose  you  keep 
up  the  good  old  way  in  the  country,  and  are  always  at 
Church,  and  would  miss  it  if  you  did  not  go  ?  " 

"  I  never  went  to  meeting  but  once  in  my  life,"  said 
Margaret. 

"  Indeed  ! "  rejoined  their  hostess.  "  Can  it  be  possible? 
Does  Simeon  allow  of  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  I  believe  he  is  satisfied  it  would  not  do  me  much  good." 

"It  is  not  all  one  could  wish.  I  have  no  doubt  my 
brother  feels  the  evil  as  much  as  I  do.  Perhaps  Rose 
would  like  to  go." 

"  I  have  been  to  Church,  and  I  think  for  the  last  time," 
was  the  answer  of  the  unhappy  girl. 

"  Is  there  not,"  asked  Margaret,  "  a  Church  in  the  city 
called  King's  Chapel  ?  I  think  I  have  heard  of  it.  Mr. 
Evelyn,  Rose,  said  something  to  me  about  it.  That  is  the 
Dame,  I  believe..  ^  have  been  feeling  this  morning  as  if  I 
should  like  to  go  there  once." 

"  One  must  be  a  little  cautious  where  one  goes  to  Church, 
now-a-days,"  said  Mrs.  Wiswall  ;  "it  is  rather  delicate 
business.  One's  character  is  apt  to  suffer.  I  should  be 
sorry  to  have  you  make  a  misstep.  Would  not  brother 
Simeon  prefer  that  you  go — say  to  the  Old  South  ?  " 

u  I  am  persuaded  he  would  wish  me  to  go  wherever  I 
desired,"  replied  Margaret. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  hummed  the  lady.  "  It  is  in  Tremont 
Street,  corner  of  School." 

"  If  you  would  be  willing  to  let  the  servant  show  the 
way,  I  should  like  to  go,"  said  Margaret. 


AT  KING'S  CHAPEL.  173 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Mrs.  Wiswall;    "any  ll  'ng  you 
wish  while  you  stay  here." 

Margaret  conducted  to  the  Church  in  question,  was  awed 
as  she  entered  by  what  presented  itself  to  her  eye  as  the 
magnificence  of  the  place ;   its  massive  columns,  its  lofty 
vault,  its  symbols,  monuments,  silence,  and  richness,  were 
so  different  from  any  thing  she  had  seen  ;    she  seemed  to 
have  dropped  into  one  of  the  palaces  of  her  dreams.      The 
mysterious  peals  of  the  organ  united  to  subdue  her  com 
pletely.      The  people  were  set,  when  she  arrived  ;    she 
walked  up  the  centre  aisle,  where  an  elderly  gentleman 
opened  his  pew  to  her.      Hardly  was  shs  seated  when  she 
knelt  instinctively,  and  wept  profoundly  ;    and  not  without 
difficulty  was  she  able  to  efface  the  traces  or  prevent  the 
renewal  of  her  emotion.     The  prayer  excited  sentiments  she 
had  never  before  felt,  and  raised  the  decaying  energies  of 
her  aspirations.     The  music  tranquillized  her  like  oil,  and 
penetrated   her  with   a   solemn,  strange   transport.     The 
minister,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Freeman,  then  in  the  prime  of  life, 
had  that  day  among  a  multitude  of  hearers  whom  extraneous 
objects  are  wont  to  distract  or  long  familiarity  harden,  one 
that  devoured  his  words  and  was  melted  by  his  address ; 
while,  with  manner  becoming   his  subject,  he  discoursed 
from  the  words  of  the  prophet,  "  Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye 
my  people."     If  he  had  known  how  much  good  in  that 
single  instance  he  was  able  to  effect,  it  might  have  recom 
pensed  him  for   any  amount  of  laborious  solicitude,  and 
sufficed    for    successive   seasons    of    fruitless    endeavor. 
Margaret  lingered  on  the  closing  steps  of  the  service,  and 
by  the  singularity  of  her  demeanor  even  drew  the  attention 
of  the  occupants  of  the  pew.    These  consisted  of  the  elderly 
gentleman,  a  lady  who  might  be  his  wife,  two  young  ladies, 
and  a  young  man,  their  daughters  and  son.      The  face  of 
15* 


174  MARGARET. 

the  last  recalled  to  Margaret  the  street  lamp,  and  floated  in 
with  her  first  impressions  of  relief  the  night  she  entered  the 
city.  "  You  are  welcome  to  a  seat  with  us,"  said  the  head 
of  the  party.  "I  thank  you,"  replied  Margaret,  and 
mingled  with  the  retiring  congregation. 

The  next  week  she  aided  Rose  in  preparation  for  the 
stage,  and  on  the  night  of  the  representation  she  was  al 
lowed  to  accompany  her  behind  the  scenes,  where  she 
helped  dress  the  Lady-in-waiting,  and  fortified  her  friend 
for  the  delicate  and  novel  adventure  to  which  she  was  com 
mitted.  The  piece  was  received  with  applause,  and  these 
raw  artists,  out  of  the  small  part  they  enacted,  contrived  to 
eke  considerable  amount  of  self-gratulation.  The  play 
was  repeated,  and  Rose  bore  herself  so  well  she  had  the 
promise  of  being  advanced  to  Bertha's  role,  who  was  going 
off  in  Lady  Teazle. 

The  succeeding  Sabbath,  Margaret  repaired  again  to 
King's  Chapel,  thus  exhibiting  the  somewhat  anomalous 
sight  of  a  virtual  stage-player  and  devout  church-goer  ;  but 
she  was  witless  of  any  contradiction.  Admitted  to  the  se 
crets  of  the  theatre,  as  we  gather  from  her  conversations 
with  Rose,  her  first  impressions  gradually  dulled.  Not  to 
speak  of  other  things,  she  remarked  that  her  ideas  became 
sadly  disarranged  by  observing  the  superficiality  of  that  on 
which  so  much  consequence  depended.  Pasteboard,  paint, 
hollowness,  heartlessness,  she  said,  were  inadequate  for  such 
an  effect.  "I  looked  into  the  pit;  there  were  tears,  and 
smiles,  and  fervid  passion,  while  one  of  the  actresses  was 
fretting  because  her  shoes  pinched ;  Bertha,  in  the  farce, 
was  down-sick  with  a  cold,  and  one  gentleman  died  in  the 
tragedy  and  was  brought  off  drunk.  The  theatre  seems  to 
me  almost  as  bad  as  the  church  ;  it  is  all  puppetry  alike." 

"  I  know  it,  Margaret,"  replied  Rose,  '  *  but  what  shall 


AN   ALARM.  175 

we  do?  I  suppose  you  will  call  me  a  puppet,  too.  If  not 
acting  one's  self  constitutes  a  person  such,  then  I  am  a  pup 
pet.  And  that  is  just  what  I  want,  to  get  away  from  my 
self.  Yet  when  the  Black  Castle  comes  on  I  will  show 
you  real  acting." 

"  Dear  Rose,  how  sorry  we  are  for  ourselves,  are  we 
not  ?  But  how  can  I  consent  to  such  methods  of  arousing 
people's  attention,  and  moving  their  affections  ?  " 

At  whatever  judgment  Margaret  might  have  been  des 
tined  to  arrive  on  these  subjects,  she  was  not  long  in  find 
ing  new  topics  of  speculation.  Returning  one  night  at  a 
late  hour  from  the  play,  with  Rose  and  their  company,  she 
stopped  to  look  at  the  effect  of  a  bright  moon  on  the  high 
tide  waters  that  filled  the  bay  west  of  the  Common,  a  con 
junction  it  had  not  fallen  to  her  lot  before  to  witness,  and 
one  that  insensibly  detained  her  while  the  others  walked 
along.  "  Let  fly  your  sheets,  there  !  the  bite  is  after  you  ! " 
was  a  loud,  blunt  cry  that  startled  her.  "  Run  !  run  !  " 
Before  she  could  collect  herself,  or  comprehend  the  cause 
of  this  sudden  alarm,  a  hand  was  upon  her  ;  but  no  sooner 
did  she  feel  it,  than  it  left  her ;  and  turning,  she  beheld  a  man 
struggling  in  the  grasp  of  another  man.  "  Climb  the  rat- 
tlings,  mount  the  horse,  there,"  cried  the  last  man,  "  while 
I  make  the  cull  easy ;  you  are  in  danger,  Margaret ;  that's 
Obed's  horse ;  up  with  you."  She  beheld  the  veritable 
Tim  standing  close  by  her ;  she  called  his  name,  and  sprang 
upon  his  back ;  and  directly  after  her  mounted  the  man 
whose  voice  she  had  heard.  No  sooner  were  they  seated, 
than  the  other  man  rushed  forward,  and  laying  violent 
hands  upon  the  horse  attempted  to  stop  him ;  the  spiteful 
beast  flung  out,  and  gallcped  away.  "When  Margaret 
recovered  from  the  flurry  of  events,  she  recognized  in  the 
man  with  whom  she  was  riding  the  sailor  that  accosted 


176  MARGARET. 

Nirarod  the  day  they  reached  Cambridge.  He  said  h's 
name  was  Ben  Bolter ;  and  in  a  dialect  mongrel  and 
strange,  he  gave  Margaret  to  understand,  as  well  as  he 
could,  that  he  was  an  old  friend  of  her  brother's ;  that 
Kimrod  and  Obed  after  a  short  confinement  were  released 
from  prison  ;  and  the  first  having  searched  the  city  in  vain 
for  her,  had  gone  back  to  Livingston  to  see  Deacon  Rams- 
dill  about  her,  while  the  other  remained  both  to  find  his 
friends  and  sell  his  wares ;  that  he  himself  was  also  on  the 
lookout  for  her ;  that  enjoying  a  furlough,  he  had  engaged 
the  use  of  Tim,  who  he  declared  was  the  worst  craft  he 
ever  sailed  in  ;  and  finally,  being  at  the  theatre  that  night, 
he  thought  he  discovered  her  behind  the  curtains  ;  and 
following  the  matter  up,  he  came  upon  her  just  as  one, 
whom  he  characterized  as  an  old  enemy  of  his,  and  whom 
Nimrod  did  not  like,  seemed  to  take  advantage  of  her 
being  alone  to  do  her  an  injury. 

Hastening  forward  to  Mrs.  Wiswall's,  Margaret  found 
Rose  standing  alone  at  the  gate.  "  Plow  you  have  fright 
ened  me !  "  exclaimed  the  latter  ;  "  I  thought  you  were 
with  Bertha.  They  were  telling  me  of  a  new  play — I 
went  back  after  you  ;  you  must  have  taken  another  street ; 
I  thought  you  were  lost." 

"  Have  you  been  anchored  here  ? "  said  the  sailor  ; 
"  what  place  is  this  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Wiswall's,"  answered  Margaret. 

"  I  guess  Nirnrod  cast  the  name  overboard,  before  he 
got  here,"  replied  the  sailor.  "  But  I  don't  like  her  build. 
What  flag  does  she  sail  under  ?  What's  her  crew  ?  " 

"  O,  Margaret ! "  outspoke  Rose,  "  I  have  suspected 
something  wrong.  I  don't  like  Mrs.  Wiswall's  face.  Some 
old  remembered  villany  sleeps  in  it.  She  is  not  the  Dea 
con's  sister ! " 


AN   ALAHM.  177 

"  It  has  seemed  to  me  as  if  all  was  not  right,"  observed 
Margaret. 

"  I  wouldn't  stay  here,"  said  the  sailor. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  "  cried  Rose ;  "  whither  now  shall 
we  flee  ?  I  will  never  step  my  foot  into  this  house  again." 

"  I  know  where  a  certain  family  lives,  not  far  from  the 
Common,"  said  Margaret ;  "  I  am  willing  to  go  and  throw 
myself  .upon  them  for  to-night." 

"  Ben  Bolter,"  said  Rose,  "  take  us  to  sea  with  you. 
Carry  us  out  of  the  world." 

They  went,  however,  as  Margaret  proposed,  and  reached 
a  house  lying  like  Mrs.  Wiswall's  back  from  the  street.  It 
was  a  late  hour,  and  no  lights  were  visible,  but  the  resolu 
tion  of  Rose  and  the  confidence  of  Margaret  led  them 
straightway  through  the  yard  and  up  the  steps.  The  sailor 
did  the  knocking  in  a  manner  easy  enough  to  himself,  but 
such  as  might  have  wrought  violence  on  the  peace  of  others, 
They  were  not  kept  long  waiting,  when  the  door  was 
opened  by  one  whose  face  was  now  familiar  to  Margaret, 
and  which  Rose  might  perchance  remember  having  seen, 
the  young  man  whose  father  gave  Margaret  a  seat  in 
church,  and  to  whose  house  she  now  fled  for  refuge.  They 
stated  their  errand  and  their  distress,  in  which  was  con 
tained  their  apology. 

"  Come  in,"  said  the  young  man,  "  I  will  speak  to  my 
sister  ;  the  knocking  I  think  has  saved  me  the  trouble  of 
arousing  her." 

They  were  taken  into  the  parlor,  and  the  young  man  soon 
returned  with  his  sister,  whom  he  introduced  as  Anna  Jones  ; 
his  name  was  Edward.  Preliminaries  were  speedily  settled, 
and  our  wanderers  shown  to  their  bed.  They  met  in  the 
morning  with  a  kind  reception  from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones,  and 
another  daughter ,  Winifred.  These  five  composed  the 


178  MARGARET. 

family,  between  whom  and  Margaret  an  interest  had  al 
ready  been  reciprocated  from  their  casual  rencontre  at 
church,  and  which  did  not  fail  to  extend  to  Rose.  The  ring 
on  Margaret's  finger  seemed  also  to  announce  an  old 
acquaintance,  and  served  to  recall  the  name  of  Mr.  Eve 
lyn,  who  the  Joneses  said  was  an  intimate  friend  of  theirs, 
and  they  expressed  pleasure  in  seeing  one  of  whom  he  had 
spoken  in  terms  of  commendation. 

Mr.  Jones  had  been  a  prosperous  India  merchant,  and 
had  perhaps  reaped  emolument  from  a  field  of  adventure 
•which  it  is  to  be  hoped  will  never  again  in  our  own  or  any 
land  be  needful,  laudable,  or  lawful  —  privateering.  His 
mansion  contained  many  things  to  interest  his  new  guests. 
Among  the  paintings  was  a  Christ  bearing  the  Cross,  by 
Raphael,  that  divided  Margaret's  attention  with  a  Magda 
len  at  Devotion  ;  a  Lady  taking  the  Veil  and  Murillo's 
Prodigal  Son  engaged  Rose.  They  were  introduced  to 
rooms  furnished  with  superb  mirrors,  marble  busts,  etc. ;  a 
Library  rich  in  architecture,  more  in  books  ;  they  revelled 
in  a  Conservatory  of  rare  flowers.  What  especially  delight 
ed  them  was  a  piano  played  with  skill  and  effect  by  Anna, 
"while  with  a  strong  but  latent  peculiarity  of  feeling,  Mar 
garet  listened  to  a  guitar,  the  instrument  of  Winifred. 
Edward  Jones  they  learned  was  a  student  of  Theology,  in 
which  science  he  supplied  them  with  his  views.  They 
were  also  introduced  to  a  mother  of  Mr.  Jones,  a  very  old 
woman,  who  entertained  them  with  tales  of  ancient  time ; 
so  two  or  three  days  wore  away.  One  morning,  Rose 
cried  out  that  Obed  was  coming  !  "  There  he  is  with  his 
saddle  bags  and  new  hat  mounting  the  steps."  Margaret 
sprang  for  the  door.  "Hold,"  siiid  Rose,  "let  us  get 
under  the  curtains,  and  see  what  he  is  after."  They  con 
cealed  themselves,  and  Obed  entered. 


AT  MB.  JONES'S.  179 

"  Don't  want  teu  buy  some  of  my  things,  I  cal'late,  deu 
ye?" 

"  Be  seated,  sir,"  said  Anna,  "  and  let  me  see  what  you 
have." 

"  Han't  seen  nothin'  of  Molly,  have  ye  ?  " 

"  Molly,  Molly  !     I  have  not  heard  of  such  a  person." 

"  I'm   feered  she's  kilt,  or  pizened,  run  over,  lost,  or 
drounded." 

"  Is  she  your  daughter,  sir?" 

"No;  she's  Molly,  Pluck's  Molly;  one  of  the  Injins, 
what  lives  under  the  Head,  next  the  Pond,  and  neighbor  of 
Marm's.  Nim  and  I  brung  her  to  the  Bay,  and  Rose ;  I  run 
arter  a  shoat  at  the  races,  and  caught  him  ;  I  couldn't  hold 
him,  he  was  so  greasy,  and  they  wouldn't  let  me  have  the 
cup  ;  they  wouldn't  let  Nim  have  his  beat,  and  we  knocked 
them  down,  and  they  knocked  us  down,  and  put  us  into 
jail ;  and  when  we  went  back  the  gals  was  gone.  This  is 
an  orful  place.  One  woman  threw  a  broom  at  me,  cause  I 
telled  her  I  had  something  that  would  cure  her  humors. 
They've  kilt  Molly,  and  drounded  her  under  the  bridge  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you.     You  should  not  have  left  her." 

"  Marm  telled  me  teu  look  arter  her  ;  she  was  always 
good  teu  me,  and  helped  me  dig  roots,  and  kept  Bull  off." 

"  Then  you  want  her  to  work  for  you.  Can't  you  find 
somebody  else  for  that?" 

"  I  dun  know ;  she's  a  right  smart  consarn,  Marm  says, 
When  she  was  at  home,  I  could  always  find  her,  if  she 
warn't  gone  into  the  woods.  If  I  k  no  wed  where  she  was 
I  could  find  her  now." 

"  What  would  you  give  if  I  would  help  you  find  her  ?  " 

"  I  dun  know  ;  I've  axed  all  the  folk,  and  they  never 
seen  her ;  and  there  she  lives  close  by  our  house,  and  the 
Master  knows  her,  and  she  can  read  eeny-most  as  well  as 


180  MARGARET. 

Parson  Welles,  and  she  is  the  only  one  in  the  world  can  go 
up  teu  Tim,  only  me  and  Marm.  If  you  would  find  her, 
I'd  let  you  have  some  flag,  that  is  good  to  chaw.  Don't 
want  to  buy  some  of  Harm's  Nommernisstortumbug?  I've 
sold  more  than  nine  hundred  boxes  sen  we  found  it  out. 
It'll  cure  yer  croup,  chopped  hands,  coughs,  scalt  head, 
measles,  small-pox,  jaunders,  toothache,  dropsy,  backache." 

"What  a  wonder!" 

"  That  an't  half; — hypo,  wind-gall  in  yer  horses,  loss  of 
cud  in  the  cows,  keep  the  wind  out  of  yer  babies  ; — here  is 
the  paper  what  the  Master  wrote  about  it.  *  Sudorific,  de 
tergent,  febrifugous,  vermifugous,  aromatic,  antiseptic,  re- 
frigerent,  antispasmodic,  cathartic,  emetic,' — that  is  what 
he  says,  and  he  knows  every  tiling." 

"  *  Garrulousness,'  he  has  down." 

"Yes;  it  cures  that;  that  is  the  larnin'—  sore  tongue — 
gwab  out  yer  mouth  with  quince  core  jell,  I've  got  it  in  my 
bags,  and  take  a  spoonful  of  the  Nommernis  when  you  go 
teu  bed." 

"  '  Acrasial  Philogamy  ? '  Brother  Edward,  what  is 
that  ?  " 

"  That,"  replied  Edward,  "  is  an  incurable  malady  to 
which  young  persons  are  subject." 

"  The  Master  said  'twas  takin',  and  Marm  said  it  was  an 
orful  complaint,  she  knew.  Take  pennyrial,  pound  up 
sweet  cicely  root,  and  bile  with  henbane  and  half  an  ounce 
of  the  Nommernis  till  it's  done,  and  it'll  break  the  fever." 

"  What  is  this,  *  Cacoethes  Feminarum  '  ?  " 

"  That's  humors.     Elder  blows  '11  due  it  for  'urn." 

"  '  Diseta  et  oratio  est  optima  medicina ' — diet  and  prayer 
he  says  are  the  best  medicines — what  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"  Them  is  the  sientifikals  ;  one  of  the  ministers  took  teu 
boxes  of  the  Nommernis  when  he  read  that,  he  liked  it  so 


AT  MR.  JONES'S.  181 

WOH. — What  is  that  noise  ?   Ye  han't  got  any  thing  shet  up 
here?" 

"  Nothing  that  will  hurt  you." 

"  I  don't  like  yer  housen  ;  they  are  full  of  bull-beggars 
and  catamounts.  Marm  '11  scold  at  me  like  nutcakes,  if  I 
can't  find  Molly.  She's  kilt,  they've  drounded  her  under 
the  bridge  ! " 

'*  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  her  ?  " 
"  Don't  know  ;  Marm  han't  said.  They  are  all  broke  up 
down  there  sen  the  murder.  Marm  said  if  Molly  come  teu 
our  house  she  might  have  the  best  bed.  But  she  don't  want 
Pluck  nor  Hash  ;  they  are  an  orful  set.  I  can't  stay ;  I  can 
hear  'urn  snickerin'  at  me  as  they  did  up  teu  tother  house, 
and  Marm  wouldn't  like  it." 

Rose  and  Margaret  burst  from  their  retreat  with  a  loud 
laugh,  and  gave  Obed  a  hearty  greeting ;  which  he,  bemazed 
and  ecstacized,  returned  as  handsomely  as  he  knew  how. 
Obed  confirmed  the  account  given  by  the  sailor,  and  said 
Nimrod  promised  to  return  as  soon  as  he  could  see  Deacon 
Ramsdill,  and  that  he  was  looking  for  him  every  day.  To 
the  great  joy  of  all,  the  next  morning  Obed,  with  Ben  Bol 
ter,  appeared,  conducting  Nimrod  and  Deacon  Ramsdill  to 
the  house. 

"  This  beats  old  Suwarrow,"  said  Nimrod.  "You  have 
kept  as  shy  as  young  partridges." 

"  A  pretty  tough  spell  you  have  had  of  it,  gals,"  said  the 
Deacon.  "  But  you  know,  Molly,  you  always  find  the  chest 
nuts  arter  a  biting  frost  and  hard  wind.  Some  good  may 
come  of  it, — the  Lord  knows.  I  havn't  no  particular 
business  here,  but  Freelove  thought  I  had  better  come 
down,  and  see  what  was  to  pay.  We  are  in  a  peck  of 
troubles  at  home,  about  the  Meetin'-house  and  the  Parson 
and  every  thing.  Some  want  a  new  Minister  ;  they  won't 

VOL.  II.  1Q 


182  MARGARET. 

help  about  putting  up  the  house.  We  have  had  several 
Town  Meetings,  but  there  is  a  good  deal  of  disorder  and 
some  hard  feeling.  I  count  it's  best  for  every  one  to  paddle 
his  canoe  his  own  way,  and  when  he  hasn't  a  way,  why,  let 
his  neighbor  enjoy  his,  that's  all.  There  an't  no  two  spears 
of  grass  alike,  and  you  can't  make  all  people  think  alike, 
only  I  count  they  might  live  in  peace  together  in  the  same 
field.  But  Brother  Hadlock  wouldn't  listen  to  me,  and 
when  you  can't  do  nobody  any  good,  then  you  had  better 
let  them  alone.  It's  no  use  talking  agin  the  grain.  When 
hens  are  shedding  their  feathers  they  don't  lay  eggs  ;  and 
one  can't  look  for  much  among  our  folk  now — so  I  thought 
I  had  as  good's  come  away.  But  the  hotter  the  fire  the 
•whiter  the  oven  ;  if  our  fire  will  be  of  any  service,  the  Lord 
knows.  I  have  been  arter  sheep  through  brush  and  ditches, 
before  now,  gals,  and  I  commonly  found  them  in  better  feed 
than  their  own  close.  Ha,  ha  !  " 

"  They  have  found  a  good  berth,"  said  Ben  Bolter, 
looking  about  the  room.  'k  But  I  should  like  to  fall  upon 
them  Algerines." 

"There  has  been  some  singular  mistake  or  mischief  at 
work,"  said  Mr.  Jones.  "  There  must  have  been  an  error 
in  the  name,  or  something  of  that  soit,  I  think." 

"  The  old  fox,  weasel,  or  what  not,  1  am  determined  to 
dig  it  out,"  said  Nimrod. 

"I  have  been  to  Pamela's,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  and  she 
says  she  hasn't  seen  any  thing  of  you  ;  and  she  wants  you  to 
go  right  round  there." 

"  We  will  all  go  together,"  said  Mr.  Jones. 

Accordingly  they  went  to  "  the  Widow  Wizzle's,"  the 
sister  of  the  Deacon,  whom  they  found  a  different  person  in 
some  respects  from  their  old  acquaintance,  her  namesake. 
Nimrod  and  Ben  Bolter  exhibited  strong  desire  to  see  the 


A   DISCOVERY.  183 

late  hostess  of  the  young  ladies,  and  Nimrod  said  they  must 
go  \\ith  him;  their  repugnance  heing  overborne  by  the 
Joneses,  who  offered  to  support  them  in  the  step  of  revisiting 
a  house  for  which  they  had  conceived  a  deep  dislike. 

Arriving  at  Mrs.  Wiswall's,  they  found  that  lady  in  a 
state  of  extreme  agitation,  and  in  the  same  room  they  saw 
also  a  very  aged  man  sitting  leaning  on  his  staff,  from  which 
he  hardly  raised  his  face.  Whatever  might  have  been  their 
method  of  address,  or  the  purport  of  this  visit,  they  were 
met  by  the  apparation  of  a  human  being,  in  large  black 
whiskers,  deathly  pale,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  Bertha,  and 
emerging  from  the  back  parlor.  "  Raxman  !  "  involuntarily 
shuddered  Rose,  and  fire  that  had  long  consumed  her  heart 
flashed  into  her  face,  and  retired ;  and  she  hung  convulsed 
on  the  arm  of  the  younger  Jones. 

"  Nope  him  on  the  costard,"  said  Ben  Bolter. 

"  Keep  still,"  said  Nimrod,  "  and  let  us  see  what  the 
fellow  has  to  say." 

He,  to  whom  all  eyes  were  now  turned,  as  if  he  had  come 
in  on  some  such  errand,  thus  spoke  : — 

"  I  am,"  said  he,  "  a  sick  and  dying  man.  Your  violence, 
Ben  Bolter,  comes  too  late  ;  the  blow  from  the  horse  has 

done  the  work.  Miss  Elphiston,  Miss Margaret, 

can  you  forgive  me.  I  have  wished  to  see  you  to  ask  this 
last  earthly  favor.  It  was  I  who  led  you  to  this  house  ;  it 
was  through  my  instigation  you  were  detained  here;  it  was 
my  wishes  that  regulated  all  behavior  towards  you  ;  nor 
would  my  mother,  whom  you  see  before  you,  or  my  sister, 
have  consented  to  such  a  transaction  as  this  must  appear 
in  your  eyes,  except  through  me.  If  my  motives  were 
selfish,  they  were  not  so  disgraceful  to  you,  Miss  Hart,  as  to 
me.  I  cannot  unfold  it  all  now  ;  that  shall  be  done  at 
other  hands.  I  am  weak,  I  am  dying.  I  have  only 


184  MARGARET. 

strength  to  be  the  recipient  of  mercy.  Miss  Elphiston,  to 
you  I  make  no  apology,  I  ask  no  charity,  my  conduct 
admits  of  no  qualification.  I  only  crave  your  forgiveness  5 
a  sheer  wretch,  I  entreat  it ;  at  your  feet  I  implore  you  to 
forgive  me.  Your  beauty,  ladies,  ensnared  me,  an  un 
controlled  ambition  has  led  me  on,  your  virtues  and  your 
sufferings  have  brought  me  to  repentance,  and  not,  I  trust, 
the  fear  of  death  alone." 

There  was  breathless  silence,  then  a  discordant  tremor 
pervaded  the  room;  —  the  old  man  shook  audibly  on  his 
cane,  the  group  in  the  centre  worked  with  varied  frenzy. 
Margaret  was  the  first  to  break  this  singular  perplexity. 
"  I  forgive  you,"  said  she,  "  I  forgive  all  your  wrong -to- 
me,  whatever  may  have  been  its  intention." 

"  Never,  never"  said  Rose,  "  can  I  forgive  you." 

"  It  is  late  shutting  the  door  when  the  mare  is  stolen," 
said  Deacon  Ramsdill ;  "  but  when  she  comes  back  of  her 
own  accord,  you  had  better  let  her  in.  Besides,  Rose,  the 
good  book  says,  '  Forgive,  and  ye  shall  be  forgiven.'  " 

"  I  have  forsworn  that"  answered  Rose. 

"  Don't  speak  so,  Rose,"  interceded  Edward  Jones.  lie 
seems  to  be  sincerely  penitent.  It  would  be  a  relief  to  his 
last  moments  to  have  your  forgiveness." 

"I  cannot,  I  cannot!"  she  rejoined. 

"  O  that  Miss  Elphiston  would  forgive  my  brother," 
prayed  Bertha,  weeping. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Jones,"  said  Mrs.  Wisvvall,  addressing 
the  senior  of  the  name,  "  the  wretched  mother  of  two 
wretched  children.  But  where  is  pity  for  her  to  be  sought 
or  received?  In  that  son  and  daughter  you  behold  the 
tokens  of  all  my  sins  and  all  my  sufferings.  Have  yon, 
Sir,  been  ignorant  of  my  course  ?  My  vanity  was  allured 
and  my  confidence  betrayed  by  a  British  officer.  One,  in 


A    DISCOVERT.  185 

whose  house  we  now  are,  instructed  me  in  the  arts,  and  un- 
bridlei  me  for  a  career  of  deception.     When  he  left  the 
country  and  could  make  no  further  reparation  for  his  inju 
ries,  he  gave  me  the  title  to  his  estate.     I  followed  the 
American  camp  ;  I  was  cajoled  by  your  own  officers.     I 
became  a  runner  between  the  two  armies,  when  the  British 
held  New  York.     And  when  it  is  his  turn  to  speak,  that 
sits  there',"  she  pointed  to  the  old  man,  "  he  will  tell  you 
more.     I  returned  after  the  War  to  this  house,  and  here  I 
am ;  my  unhappy  children  pleading  in  vain  for  that  mercy 
which  another's  infamy  might  justly  implore,  and  which 
their  guilty,  miserable  mother,  the  cause  of  all  their  calam 
ities,  can  never  bestow.     Who,  Miss  Elphiston,  ever  asked 
my  pardon  ?     Who  ever  knelt  for  my  forgiveness  ?     What 
dying  man  has  flung  to  me  the  poor  boon  of  his  remorse  ? 
By  whose  penitence  has  my  own  conscious  load  of  sin  been 
lightened  ?     My  relentings,  were  they  ever  so  great,  had 
been  lavished  on  the  winds ;  my  commiserations  had  been, 
squandered  on  scoffs  and  jeers ;  my  love,  which  even  the 
guilty  sometimes  feel,  and  it  is  a  relief  to  the  abandoned  to 
exercise,  has  been  answered  by  the  frowns  of  the  honored 
and  the  repulse  of  the  prosperous.     Here  I  am,  freshly 
awakened  to  a  sense  of  my  enormities,  and  denied  the  priv 
ilege  of  seeing  one  gleam  of  peace  fall  upon  the  heads  of 
my  poor  children.     My  own  guilt  seems  to  augment,  and 
they  are  plunged  into  still  deeper  distress.     Miss  Margaret, 
my  conduct  towards  you  must  appear  equivocal,  suspicious, 
and  fraught  with  duplicity.     But  the  crime  belongs  rather 
to  the  means  than  the  intent,  and  I  have  been  too  long  famil 
iar  with  the  ways  of  the  world  to  haggle  at  the  manner 
when  the  end  is  desirable.     I  had  reason  to  believe  that  my 
son's  purposes  were  honorable,  however  his  action  must  for 
ever  degrade  him  in  your  eyes.     In  what  a  world  do  we 
16* 


186 


MARGARET. 


live!  By  what  steadfastly  increasing  evil  are  our  steps 
pursued  !  Our  life  is  but  the  ministration  of  woe  and  ruin 
by  man  to  man !  He  who  rules  all  things  for  the  best,  per 
mits  some  to  fall  where  others  rise.  Your  beauty,  which 
princes  might  covet,  shall  bear  you  aloft,  like  the  Star  of 
Evening,  diffusing  lustre  about  you,  and  cheering  your  own 
existence.  Mine  sinks  beyond  recovery,  the  darkness  of 
disgrace  adding  new  deformity  to  the  waste  of  years  ;  and 
the  lost  innocence  of  my  childhood  returns  to  shed  ven- 
gence  on  my  enfeebled  age  ! " 

"  Ho !  "  hemmed  Ben  Bolter  ;  "  I  must  overhaul  my  cop 
pers,  and  get  my  head  on  another  tack." 

"  I  do  forgive  you,"  said  Rose,  "  and  may  Heaven  forgive 
me  too." 

While  these  scenes  were  transpiring  among  the  principal 
parties  in  the  room,  one  might  have  detected  Nimrod  in 
earnest  whisper  with  the  old  man,  aside  :  "  Not  now,  Sir, 
not  now  ;  this  is  enough  for  once  ;  wait  till  we  get  away, 
we  will  go  to  Mr.,  Jones's." 

The  party  returned  to  the  house  whence  they  started. 
Meanwhile  Mr  Jones,  taking  Margaret  by  herself,  said  he 
would  open  on  a  subject  of  some  interest  to  her.  He  doubt 
ed  not,  he  added,  that  her  good  sense  would  receive  what 
he  was  commissioned  to  declare  without  confusion ,  and  the 
fortitude  she  had  displayed  in  adverse  circumstances  would 
not  forsake  her  under  more  agreeable  events.  What  was 
coming,  she  might  well  ask,  that  required  such  a  preface. 
"  Have  you  a  grandfather  ?  "  he  asked ;  she  replied  she  knew 
of  none  ;  that  she  supposed  the  parents  of  both  her  father 
and  mother  were  dead.  "  I  have  the  pleasure,  then,"  con 
tinued  Mr.  Jones,  "  to  inform  you  that  your  grandfather  is 
living,  and  the  old  man  we  saw  at  Mrs.  WiswalPs  is  he." 
He  then  proceeded  to  put  her  in  possession  of  what  the 


A    DISCOVERY.  187 

reader  already  knows,  that  she  was  the  adopted  child  of 
Pluck  and  Brown  Moll,  that  her  own  father  and  mother 
died  in  her  infancy,  that  she  had  been  disowned  by  her 
grandfather,  who,  nevertheless,  had  contributed  supplies  to 
her  comfort,  and  whom,  in  a  word,  she  must  prepare 
to  receive  the  following  day. 

The  next  morning  Nimrod  and  Ben  Bolter,  accompanied 
by  the  old  man,  Mr.  Girardeau,  came  to  Mr.  Jones's.  The 
way  having  been  prepared,  little  remained  but  for  Marga 
ret  to  embrace  her  grandfather.  The  old  man  laid  his 
hand  on  her  head,  and  with  a  voice  broken  by  age  and 
husky  with  emotion,  said,  "Jane,  Jane,  my  own  Jane,  my 
Jane's  own  !"  Summoning  Rose,  he  held  the  girls  face  to 
face,  and  said,  "  This  is  your  cousin,  Margaret,  the  grand 
child  of  my  wife's  sister  ;  and  Nimrod,"  continued  he,  "  is 
not  your  adopted  brother  only,  his  mother  is  the  daughter 
of  my  only  sister.  Others  have  asked  your  forgiveness, 
but  who  needs  it  more  than  I  ?  I  turned  you  off  in  help 
less  infancy  ;  I  have  greatly  sinned  against  you  and  others 
too,  more  than  I  can  tell.  But  Nimrod  and  Ben  Bolter 
will  inform  you  of  what  I  cannot.  Let  me  be  forgiven,  and 
you  shall  know  my  wrong-doings  afterwards." 

"  Sit  down,  Sir,"  said  Nimrod,  "  and  I  will  tell  all  I  know 
about  the  matter,"  and  he  proceeded  to  relate  his  first  con 
nection  with  Margaret,  and  his  taking  her  to  the  Pond. 

"  'Tis  all  true,"  added  the  sailor.  "  Nim  and  I  were 
messmates.  I  was  there  when  he  brought  you  off;  I 
helped  stow  you  away ;  I  dandled  you  when  he  was 
asleep  ;  I  lowered  you  down  when  he  left  the  sloop ;  you 
was  a  good-looking  cock-boat,  but  make  a  spread  eagle  of 
me,  if  you  havn't  grown  into  as  handsome  a  merchantman 
as  ever  carried  a  bone  in  her  mouth.  But,  blow  me,  if 


188  MARGARET. 

Obed's  horse  hadn't  a  bunged  the  cull's  puddings,  I  don't 
know  where  you  would  have  brought  up." 

u  God's  hand  is  in  it !  "  said  Deacon  Ramsdill,  who  came 
in  during  these  disclosures.  "  We  read,  that  when  the  lost 
one  came  home,  they  danced  and  made  merry.  And  you 
recollect,  Molly,  when  they  brought  you  up  out  of  the 
woods,  the  Preacher  prayed  before  the  dance  begun.  I 
feel  as  if  I  should  like  to  pray  before  we  get  on  to  the 
rejoicings."  Whereupon  they  all  joined  with  the  Deacon, 
who,  in  simple  heartfelt  manner,  made  thanksgiving  to 
Almighty  God. 

Leaving  these  persons  to  recapitulate  details,  exchange 
congratulations,  and  make  such  demonstration  of  joy  as  was 
natural  to  the  hour,  we  must  go  with  our  readers  to  places 
and  times  somewhat  remote,  and  bring  up  a  brief  account 
illustrative  of  events  that  have  now  been  recorded. 


THE    HISTORY    OF   MR.    GIRADEAU.  189 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE    HISTORY    OF    MR.    GIRARDEAU. 

DURING  the  period  of  our  Colonial  existence,  the 
American  Planters  were  in  the  practice  of  importing,  not 
black  slaves  from  the  coast  of  Guinea  alone,  but  also  white 
servants  from  various  parts  of  Europe.  Among  the  pro 
prietors  of  the  Simsbury  Copper  Mines  in  the  State  of 
Connecticut  were  several  Frenchmen,  the  wealthy,  enter 
prising,  exiled  Huguenots.  It  became  an  object  with  these 
gentlemen  to  combine  in  their  establishment  those  who 
could  speak  their  own  tongue.  About  the  year  1740,  there 
arrived  in  Norfolk,  Virginia,  a  cargo  of  servants,  and  of  the 
number  were  some  from  Jersy,  an  island  belonging  to  the 
English  Crown,  but  inhabited  in  good  part  by  a  French 
population.  A  purchase  was  made,  including  a  portion  of 
this  last  description  of  persons.  In  the  lot  were  Jean 
Waugh,  and  Marie  his  sister.  Jean  was  a  young  man  of 
some  ambition.  He  was  ready  to  exchange  poverty  and 
oppression  in  the  Old  World,  for  temporary  vassalage  in 
the  New,  with  the  prospect  of  ultimate  enfranchisement  and 
possessions.  He  threw  himself,  with  his  sister,  into  the 
hands  of  an  American  shipmaster,  consented  to  be  adver 
tised  with  coals  and  salt  in  the  public  prints,  to  be  knocked 
off  at  public  vendue,  and  for  the  consideration  of  twelve 
pounds  paid  the  importer  became  the  subject  of  indentures 
binding  him  to  the  Simsbury  Company  for  six  years,  the 
term  affixed  by  law  to  those  of  his  age.  Jean  was  master 
of  the  French  and  English  languages ;  he  could  rend  and 


190  MARGARET. 

write,  he  was  spirited  and  active.  He  wheeled  ore  with 
blacks,  labored  with  the  pickaxe,  and  drilled  rocks.  By 
the  regulations  of  the  peculiar  institution  to  which  he  was 
subservient,  he  could  not  marry ;  none  could  trade  or  truck 
with  him ;  he  could  not  leave  the  premises,  nor  was  he 
eligible  to  office.  In  the  result  he  became  tired  of  his  con 
dition,  one  indeed  not  congenial  with  the  spirit  of  the 
present  age,  and  the  vestiges  of  which  can  only  be  traced 
in  an  obscure  antiquity.  Adopting  an  obvious  method  of 
deliverance,  he  ran  away,  a  criminal  offence,  for  which  he  was 
publicly  whipped.  Returning  a  blow  upon  the  executioner, 
he  became  liable  to  two  years'  additional  service.  Again 
contriving  to  escape,  he  joined  a  gang  of  counterfeiters,  and 
the  Bills  of  Credit  issued  by  the  Provinces,  in  periods  of 
alarm,  became  encumbered  and  perplexed.  He  fled  the 
region,  and  a  few  years  afterwards  reappeared  in  New 
York,  associated  with  brokers,  smugglers,  and  that  class  of 
men  who  contrive  to  reap  advantage  from  public  distress  or 
private  credulity.  Here  he  took  the  name  of  Girardeau, 
and,  as  such,  has  already  been  introduced  to  our  readers. 

It  so  happened  that  a  little  boy,  who  dwelt  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  the  Mines,  and  often  played  about  the  grounds, 
was  a  witness  of  Jean's  punishment,  and  from  a  habit 
peculiar  to  his  nature,  took  sides  with  the  delinquent ;  and 
ultimately  gave  him  essential  support  in  his  attempts  to 
escape.  This  was  Didymus  Hart,  familiarly  known  in  this 
Memoir  as  Pluck.  Marie,  the  sister  of  Mr.  Girardeau, 
seduced  by  an  Overseer  at  the  Mines,  died  in  giving  birth 
to  twin  daughters,  one  of  whom  Didymus  subsequently 
married,  and  the  other  became  the  Mrs.  Wiswall  mentioned 
in  the  foregoing  chapter. 

To  digress  a  moment  on  the  history  of  Pluck — after  Mr. 
Girarddau  was  in  circumstances  to  recompense  his  bene- 


THE    HISTORY    OF   MR.    GIRARDEAU.  191 

factor,  as  well  as  show  his  attachment  to  the  child  of  his 
sister,  he  made  liberal  grants  to  Mr.  Hart,  and  even  helped 
establish  him  in  some  mercantile  pursuit.  But  Pluck, 
abandoning  himself  to  his  cups,  dissipated  at  once  his  good 
name  and  his  estate  ;  and  for  some  misdemeanor,  losing  one 
of  his  ears,  he  became  still  more  reckless  and  improvident, 
and  finally  succeeded  in  completely  estranging  the  affection 
of  Mr.  Girardeau,  as  he  had  already  forfeited  the  respect  of 
his  fellow-citizens.  He  removed  to  Livingston,  where  he 
supported  his  family  awhile  by  tending  bar  for  Mr.  Smith, 
at  No.  4,  and  at  last  took  up  his  residence  at  the  Pond. 

Mr.  Girardeau  married  a  sister  of  the  grandmother  of 
Rose.  The  acquisition  of  wealth  became  the  engrossing 
passion  of  this  man,  an  object  that  he  clutched  with  a 
miserly  and  inextinguishable  activity,  and  with  a  singleness 
of  aim  and  sagacity  of  calculation  that  rendered  elusion 
impossible.  For  this  he  sacrificed  all  generous  impulses^ 
inflicted  unhappiness  on  his  family,  sent  his  wife  to  a 
premature  grave,  and  would  have  wrecked  the  virtues,  as  he 
finally  contributed  to  the  death,  of  his  child.  When  imposts 
were  high  he  contrived  to  smuggle  his  commodities  ;  when 
premium  was  exorbitant,  he  had  money  to  lend.  If  trade 
was  interrupted  in  one  quarter,  he  opened  channels  for  it 
in  another.  As  fortune  is  said  to  aid  the  bold,  when  the 
ports  were  closed,  what  should  happen  but  his  own  well- 
laden  ships  were  already  in  the  offing.  During  the  first 
alarms  of  the  War,  when  multitudes  deserted  the  city,  he 
became  chapman  of  their  estates ;  confiscated  property  he 
bid  in  for  a  trifle.  He  trafficked  in  public  securities,  and 
realized  much  where  many  lost  their  all.  Mr.  Girardeau 
was  master  of  the.  German,  either  by  an  original  acquisition, 
or  froja  intercourse  with  that  portion  of  our  immigrant 
population  ;  thus  supplied  with  three  important  dialects,  he 


102  MARGARET. 

held  a  position  superior  to  most  of  his  contemporaries. 
This  language  he  also  taught  his  daughter,  who,  it  will  be 
recollected,  was  able  to  discourse  with  Briickmann,  the 
young  Waldecker,  in  his  own  tongue.  During  the  War, 
for  purposes  humane  or  military,  large  quantities  of  gold 
and  silver  were  transported  backwards  and  forwards  be 
tween  the  adjacent  country  and  the  city.  Much  of  this 
passed  through  the  hands  of  Mr.  Girardeau,  who  did  not 
fail  to  take  due  brokerage.  He  was  a  Patriot,  or  Tory,  with 
equal  facility  ;  and  if  he  accommodated  his  coat  to  the  hue 
of  the  parties  with  whom  he  dealt,  its  facing  retained  but 
one  color,  that  of  their  common  gold.  In  these  negotia 
tions  he  also  employed  the  services  of  his  other  twin  niece, 
Mrs.  Wiswall,  and  her  little  boy,  called  Raxman,  whom  at 
the  close  of  the  War,  it  has  been  related,  Nimrod  found  on 
the  premises  of  Mr.  Girardeau.  The  acquaintance  of  this 
woman  on  both  sides  of  the  line,  the  protection  afforded  by 
her  sex,  the  harrnlessness  of  the  lad,  were  circumstances  of 
which  he  did  not  fail  to  avail  himself.  Introduced  to  the 
secrets  of  the  contending  powers,  he  made  adventures  with 
a  safe  foresight.  The  agent  of  factions  and  intrigues,  he 
never  violated  his  trust  except  when  driven  to  what  is 
termed  the  first  law  of  nature,  to  which  he  had  timely 
recourse.  The  public  good  he  satisfied  himself  he  carried, 
where  others  have  borne  important  sections  of  the  country, 
in  his  breeches  pocket.  At  the  close  of  the  War  he 
purchased  city  lands,  which  in  the  progress  of  time  doubled 
and  quadrupled  on  his  hands.  In  the  game  of  public  life, 
leaving  to  others  offices  and  honors,  place  and  power,  he 
managed  to  sweep  the  banks  into  his  own  drawers.  When 
war  threatened  with  France,  he  obtained  foreign  exchange 
at  a  discount,  and  after  the  disturbance  sold  it  at  an  ad 
vance.  He  speculated  in  continental  bills;  he  profited  by 


THE    HISTORY    OF    MR.    GIRARDEAU.  193 

the  wars  of  Europe.  Such  was  Mr.  Girardeau.  At  the 
expiration  of  the  century,  the  Jersey  servant  had  arisen  to  a 
fortune,  estimated,  at  the  time,  as  high  as  two  millions  of 
dollars. 

But  old  age  had  already  overtaken  him,  and  death  was 
not  far  off.  Palsy,  without  a  figure,  loosened  his  hold  of 
his  gains,  and  he  could  not  be  indifferent  to  the  destination 
of  an  estate  amassed  with  so  much  painstaking.  From 
the  depths  of  the  ocean  come  up  bubbles  that  sparkle  on  its 
surface.  In  Mr.  Girardeau  appeared  some  symptoms  of 
an  imperishable  humanity.  His  daughter  he  had  perse 
cuted  even  unto  death.  He  began  to  refreshen  his  memory 
with  some  thoughts  of  the  grandchild.  He  discovered  the 
place  of  her  abode,  and,  in  an  assumed  cosfume,  appeared  at 
the  Pond.  Having  certified  himself  of  her  existence  and 
identity,  he  departed.  Why  did  he  not  make  himself  known  ? 
Nimrod,  whose  parentage  was  disguised,  when  he  first 
became  the  servant  of  Mr.  Girardeau,  exceedingly  pro 
voked  and  irritated  him.  Pluck,  having  once  pitied,  he 
could  never  forgive.  To  Brown  Moll,  his  niece,  he  attrib 
uted  a  share  of  her  husband's  misfortunes.  But  we  can 
not  explain  what  we  do  not  understand,  the  labyrinths  of 
the  human  mind,  nor  can  we  relate  all  the  operations  of 
that  of  Mr.  Girardeau.  It  suffices  to  know  that  he  did 
relent,  at  least  so  far  as  his  grandchild  was  concerned,  and 
embraced  Margaret  in  his  munificent  intentions.  Raxman 
had  continued  in  his  grand-uncle's  employ  in  the  capacity 
of  a  clerk,  an  office  he  fulfilled  with  the  fidelity  of  a  child 
and  the  industry  of  a  slave.  But  this  young  gentleman's 
conduct  with  Rose,  having  reached  the  ears  of  Mr.  Girar 
deau,  gave  him  great  provocation.  At  length,  however, 
the  apparent  reformation  of  Raxman  induced  him  to  offer 
him  a  liberal  endowment  if  he  would  marry  Margaret. 

VOL.  II.  17 


194  MARGARET. 

To  effect  this  object  Raxraan  made  a  journey  to  the 
Pond,  where  his  success  has  been  related.  Here,  also,  this 
young  man  found  an  unexpected  obstacle  to  his  wishes 
in  the  presence  of  Rose.  It  needs  also  to  be  told  that  he 
applied  to  the  Widow  Wright,  and  sought,  by  means  which 
he  found  most  acceptable  with  that  lady,  to  gain  her  to  his 
purpose  ;  which  had  now  become  twofold,  that  of  securing 
Margaret  and  withdrawing  Rose.  But  the  Widow,  who 
had  her  dreams  about  Margaret,  when  she  found  she  was 
likely  to  lose  her  to  herself,  immediately  changed  her  tac 
tics,  and  endeavored  to  detain  Margaret,  and  insisted  that 
he  should  marry  Rose.  Rax  man  left  the  Pond  and 
returned  to  New  York,  where  he  found  Nimrod,  to  whose 
assistance  in  this  complicity  of  affair  she  appealed.  But 
Nimrod  had  no  friendship  for  Raxman,  and  a  very  strong 
one  for  Margaret. 

Now  at  this  time  Mr.  Girardeau  himself  began  to  exhibit 
signs  of  penitence  ;  he  avowed  a  most  benevolent  interest  in 
his  grandchild  ;  and  assured  Nimrod  that  every  thing  should 
be  done  for  the  good  and  felicity  of  Margaret,  if  he  would 
render  aid  to  Raxman.  Accordingly  he  was  hired  to  take 
her  away  from  the  Pond,  a  measure  which  he  undertook  in 
the  manner  described.  He  was  to  meet  Raxman  at  Hart 
ford  ;  great  was  the  disappointment  of  the  young  man  to 
find  Rose  of  the  company.  He  suggested  the  continuation 
of  the  journey  to  Boston.  He  hastened  on  before  arid 
acquainted  his  mother  with  his  designs.  He  was  in  Cam 
bridge  when  the  party  arrived  there  ;  he  had  intelligence 
conveyed  to  the  girls  of  the  imprisonment  of  Nimrod  and 
Obed  ;  he  hovered  on  their  steps  as  they  entered  the  city  ; 
he  knew  of  the  letter  to  the  sister  of  the  Deacon  ;  he  came 
up  with  them  as  they  parted  with  Edward  Jones;  and 
muffled  in  a  cloak,  disguising  his  voice,  he  conducted  them 


THE   HISTORY    OF   MK.    GIRARDEAU.  195 

to  his  mother's ;  who,  in  truth,  was  sometimes  called  Wis- 
wall.  He  remained  about  the  house,  but  was  not  seen  in 
it.  The  attachment  of  Margaret  and  Rose  was  a  difficulty 
not  easily  surmounted ;  various  methods  were  taken  to 
divide  them,  but  all  failed.  At  length  the  accidental  with 
drawal  occured  as  they  returned  from  the  Theatre.  Rax- 
man  sought  to  improve  the  moment ;  but  a  new  balk  to  his 
projects  offered  itself  in  the  person  of  Ben  Bolter.  The 
result  is  known.  Tim,  whom  the  sailor  sported  on  all 
occasions,  dealt  the  young  man  a  mortal  blow.  It  might 
appear  that  Ben  Bolter  himself  had  some  secret  antipathy 
to  Raxman  ;  but  of  this  we  have  no  further  knowledge 
that  his  owm  words  imply.  Mr.  Girardeau,  learning  what 
had  befallen  his  relative,  immediately  came  to  Boston. 

Such  is  the  narrative  to  which  the  preceding  chapter  has 
given  rise  ;  and  now,  whatever  relates  to  these  accidental 
personages  having  been  told,  and  the  thread  of  the  story 
evolved,  let  us  return  to  the  principal  subject  of  this  Tale. 

A  new  sphere  of  interest  was  open  to  Margaret,  and  one 
in  which,  notwithstanding  her  need  of  quiet  and  repose,  she 
set  herself  to  making  immediate  exploration ;  we  refer  to 
the  circumstances  of  her  own  birth,  and  the  history  of  her 
father  and  mother,  Gottfried  Bruckmann  and  Jane  Girar 
deau.  Sedulous  and  minute  were  her  inquiries  on  these 
points  ;  and  she  found  her  grandfather,  as  well  as  Nimrod, 
disposed  to  communicate  whatever  they  knew.  Edward 
Jones,  then  in  correspondence  with  Mr.  Evelyn,  wrote  his 
friend,  who  was  expecting  to  visit  Germany,  to  make 
inquiries  concerning  Bruckmann  and  Margaret  Bruneau, 
in  Pyrmont  and  Rubillaud.  Mr.  Girardeau  had  religiously 
preserved  the  relics  of  his  daughter  and  her  husband,  and 
said  he  had  in  his  possession  the  flute,  books,  and  sundry 
papers  which  they  left.  The  bulk  of  his  estate  he  made 


196  MARGARET. 

over  to  Margaret,  reserving  annuities  for  his  niece  and  her 
daughter,  Mrs.  Wiswall  and  Bertha,  in  amount  sufficient 
to  rescue  them  from  their  present  mode  of  life  ;  Rose  also 
received  a  gratuity  equal  to  a  moderate  fortune.  They 
were  summoned  ere  long  to  fulfil  the  last  duties  of  humanity 
upon  Raxman. 

It  was  decided  that  Margaret  and  Rose  should  spend  the 
winter  in  Boston.  Deacon  Ramsdill,  Nimrod  and  Obed,  re 
turned  to  Livingston  ;  the  latter  handsomely  laden  with 
gifts,  and  the  profits  of  his  enterprise  ;  Nimrod  furnished 
with  the  means  of  redeeming  the  estate  at  the  Pond,  and 
also  of  executing  his  proposed  marriage.  The  father  of 
Margaret  being  a  German,  and  having  left  books  and 
manuscripts  in  that  tongue,  in  which  also  her  mother  was 
skilled,  she  must  also  attempt  its  acquisition  ;  an  exercise 
in  which  she  was  assisted  by  Edward  Jones.  She  devoted 
some  time  every  day  to  music,  that  of  the  piano  and 
guitar.  There  were  not  wanting  benevolent  persons  in  the 
city,  who,  apprised  of  her  good  fortune,  endeavored  that  she 
should  turn  it  to  the  best  account.  New  bonnets,  new 
ribbons,  the  latest  style  of  dresses,  wero  topics  on  which 
she  was  duly  enlightened.  To  balls,  theatres,  routs,  card- 
parties  she  was  duly  invited  ;  but  this  proved  an  atten 
tion  it  was  not  in  her  power  to  answer. 

A  concession  on  the  part  of  Rose  afforded  Margaret  un- 
mingled  pleasure ;  she  agreed  to  go  with  her  to  Church ; 
and  having  gone  half  a  day  they  went  a  whole  day ;  and 
from  going  occasionally  they  went  constantly.  Spring 
came  at  last ;  and  Margaret  and  Rose,  with  Edward  Jones 
in  company,  started  on  horseback  for  Livingston.  The 
sadness  with  which  they  approached  the  town  did  not 
abate  as  they  entered  the  still  desolate  Green.  They 


THE    HISTORY    OF    MR.    GIRARDEAU.  197 

returned  the  greetings  of  their  old  friends,  and  hastened  to 
the  Pond.  The  whole  family  came  out  to  welcome  them, 
Bull,  and  all.  Chilion  was  not  there  !  Here  the  compiler 
takes  leave  of  Margaret,  submitting,  to  such  as  would 
pursue  the  sequel  of  her  life,  the  Part  which  follows. 
17* 


TART    III. 


WOMANHOOD 


PART  III. 


LETTER  FROM  MARGARET  TO  ANNA  JONES. 

Mons  Christi, . 

MY  DEAR  ANNA: — You  told  me  to  write  you  every 
thing;  but  how  shall  I  utter  myself?  How  can  I  give 
shape  or  definition  to  what  I  am  ?  Easy  were  it  for  me  to 
tell  you  what  I  am  not.  Has  a  volcano  burst  within  me? 
Has  a  tornado  prostrated  me  ?  If  you  were  to  excavate 
the  Herculaneum  that  I  seem  to  myself  to  be,  would  you 
find  only  charred  effigies  of  things,  silent  fountains  of  old 
emotions,  deserted  streets  of  a  once  busy  and  harmonious 
life,  skeletons  of  hopes  stricken  down  in  the  act  of  running 
from  impending  danger  ?  With  Rose,  I  would  forget  my 
self,  that  to  which  this  writing  recalls  me.  She  says  I  can 
endure  the  prospect  better  than  she.  If  this  be  so,  it  must 
be  attributed  to  its  possessing  the  merit  of  novelty.  I  am 
in  ruins,  and  so  are  all  things  about  me.  Yet  in  the  wind 
fall  some  trees  are  'new  sprouting  ;  invisible  hands  are  re 
building  the  shattered  edifice.  View  nie  as  you  will,  I 
think  I  am  a  doit  improving.  Do  I  begin  existence  wholly 
anew,  or  rise  I  up  from  the  chaos  of  an  earlier  condition  ? 
What  is  the  transition — from  myself  to  myself,  or  from  my 
self  to  another  ?  What  is  the  link  between  Molly  Hart  and 
Margaret  Briickmann,  can  you  tell  ?  In  which  of  the  cli 
macterics  do  I  now  exist?  I  am  witheringly  afflicted. 
Chilion  is  not ! 


202  MARGARET. 

"  Te  sine,  vae  misero  mihi !  lilia  nigra  videntur, 
Palentesque  rosse,  nee  dulce  rubens  hyacinthus ! " 

The  vision  of  those  days  distracts  me,  the  remembrance  of 
my  brother  turns  the  voices  of  the  birds  into  wailing,  and 
the  sun  is  pale  at  midday.  In  Scotland  are  Caves  of  Mu 
sic,  deep  pits  where  unseen  water  keeps  up  a  sort  of  mid 
night  melody.  I  am  such  a  cave.  Chilion  flows  through 
me,  a  nethermost,  mournfullest  dirge.  Then,  too,  Ma  is  so 
silent ;  her  features  are  so  rigidly  distressed.  She  smokes 
and  weaves,  hour  after  hour ;  I  fear  she  will  never  smile 
again.  Pa  has  lost  his  glow  of  countenance ;  he  has  grown 
absolutely  pale  ;  and  where  he  sits  working,  I  see  tears  drip 
on  his  leathern  apron.  Hash  is  so  sober,  so  soft,  it  fright 
ens  me.  Nimrod  comes  down  from  the  Ledge  and  does 
his  best  to  enliven  us,  but  his  gayety  has  fled,  and  he  knows 
not  how  to  be  mournful.  Bull  had  one  leg  broke  at  the 
time  of  Chilion's  trial,  and  hobbles  out  to  Chilion's  boat, 
where  he  sits  by  the  hour.  Rose  is  soothing  and  active, 
but  she  has  a  load  at  her  own  heart,  which,  in  truth,  I  need 
help  her  bear.  Isabel  rides  up  almost  every  day,  full  of 
sympathy  and  generous  love.  Deacon  Ramsdill,  Master 
Elliman,  Mrs.  Bowker  aud  others,  have  made  us  kind 
visits.  Sibyl  Radney  comes  and  milks  the  cow,  and  does 
some  of  my  little  chores.  Yesterday,  Rose  and  Isabel 
went  with  me  to  the  burying-ground.  Good  old  Philip 
Davis,  the  Sexton,  so  I  have  been  told,  had  the  courage  and 
the  kindness  to  go  one  night  and  cover  Chilion's  grave 
with  green  sod.  It  is  by  itself  apart,  in  one  corner  of  the 
grounds.  Few  persons  have  been  near  it,  and  the  tall  grass 
has  grown  rank  about  it.  I  threw  myself  upon  it  and  dis 
solved  in  weeping.  Murmur  I  could  not ;  an  inarticulate, 
ungovernable  anguish  was  all  I  could  feel.  O  my  brother  ! 
I  knew  not  I  had  such  a  brother  ;  I  knew  not  I  loved  such 


TO    ANNA   JONES.  203 

a  brother  ! — We  found  a  dandelion  budding  on  it — when  I 
was  little,  he  taught  me  to  love  dandelions  !  Rose  folded 
me  in  her  arms,  Isabel  prayed  for  me.  I  thought  of  the 
blood-sweating  agony  of  Him,  the  Divine  Sufferer  ;  it  pen 
etrated  and  subdued  mine.  Mrs.  Bowker  gave  me  a  lady's 
slipper,  taken  from  the  plant  Chilion  sent  her.  There  is  a 
fancy  that  flowers  die,  when  those  who  have  tended  them 
do.  Will  Chilion's  flowers  live  ?  There  are  many  of  us 
who  will  fulfil  his  love  towards  them. 

We  live  at  home  as  we  were  wont  to  do,  only  Rose  is 
ever  with  me.     I  share  with  her  my  bed  in  the  garret.     I 
love  the  old  house  more  than  all  places,  and  what  mat 
ters  it  ?     1  seem  to   myself  to   be  deep  as  our  own  bot 
tomless  Pond.     The  Indian  and  his  child  lie  there ;  in  me 
the  last  of  many  ages  and  races  of  hope  and  life  seem  to 
have  perished.     Clamavi  de  profundis.     Yet,  yet,  the  sun 
swims  through  me,  and  I  hear  Jesus  walking  on  the  troubled 
waters  above.    "  Peace,  be  still;  "  yes,  be  still.    How  sadly 
does  suffering  make  us  conscious  of  ourselves.     I  knew  not 
that  I  had  any  depth.    Now  shaft  opens  into  shaft,  and  the 
miners  are  still  at  work. — I  hear  my  chickens  peeping,  and 
I  must  go  feed  them.     Rose  comes  in  sight,  from  a  sail  on 
the  water  with  Bull.      Her  beautiful  smile  greets  me  afar. 
Thanks,  dear  Anna,  for  yourself;  thanks  for  your  flowing 
hair,  your  blue,  brimming  eyes ;  for  your  royal  spirit  that 
daily  visits  me.     Your  brother  Edward  was  immeasurably 
good  to  us.     He  has  written  Rose,  who  blesses  him  in  her 
own  soul,  if  she  can  in  no  other  way.     She  will  write  him. 
I  had  a  melancholy  commission  at  No.  4,  on  behalf  of 
Chilion.     Since  the  death  of  Solomon,  Mr.  Smith's  affairs 
have  worked  disorderly.     The  Still  took  fire  one  night  and 
was  consumed.     He  himself  drinks  to  intoxication  every 
day,  and  I   did  not  see  him.     Mrs.  Smith  arid  Damaris 


204  MARGARET. 

were  wholly  unprepared  for  my  errand.  The  idea  of  for 
giving  Chilion  had  never  entered  their  heads.  And  indeed 
it  would  not  restore  Solomon  to  life  !  I  showed  them  the 
willow  basket  Chilion  wished  me  to  give  them.  Damaris 
cried,  and  we  all  cried.  At  length  she  said  she  would  for 
give  Chilion,  if  I  would  forgive  her  for  striking  me  when 
they  were  digging  in  the  Pines  !  How  complicate  is  our 
life  !  When  I  came  away  I  made  them  a  present,  small 
for  me,  but  large  perhaps  for  them.  I  offered  also  to  put 
up  a  monument  for  Solomon.  But,  ah's  me  !  I  have  since 
been  told,  Mr.  Smith  declares  it  shall  recite  the  fact  that 
he  was  murdered  by  Chilion,  or  he  will  have  it  done  him 
self.  Can  it  not  be  avoided  ?  Yet  I  will  submit. 

In  the  town  the  greatest  excitement  prevails.  They 
cannot  decide  about  rebuilding  the  Church.  Then,  Isabel 
says,  there  is  a  preliminary  and  deeper  question.  Some 
are  anxious  that  Parson  Welles  should  have  a  colleague, 
and  they  also  stipulate  that  he  shall  be  a  very  different 
man  from  their  old  minister.  On  the  one  side  are  Judge 
Morgridge,  Deacon  Ramsdill,  Esq.  Bowker,  Esq.  Weeks, 
Mr.  Whiston,  Mr.  Pottle  ;  on  the  other  Deacon  Hadlock, 
Mr.  Adolphus  Hadlock,  Deacon  Penrose,  Dr.  Spoor,  Mr. 
Shocks,  among  the  most  prominent  ones.  All  these  per 
sons  I  believe  I  spoke  to  you  about,  in  answer  to  your 
world-wide  inquiries,  a  point  in  which  you  excel  any  one  I 
ever  knew.  I  have  not  been  to  the  Green,  or  Desert,  as 
Isabel  says  it  is. 

Your  loving  but  afflicted 

MARGARET. 


ROSE  TO  EDWARD  JONES. 

My  dear  Edward  Jones  : — 

I  cannot  forget  you,  I  live  in  your  approbation,  I  thrive 


ROSE     TO    EDWARD    JONES.  205 

under  your  care.  Many  obligations  for  your  kind  note.  I 
am  externally  more  calm,  my  nerves  are  less  susceptable, 
I  sleep  more  soundly,  and  Margaret  says  there  is  some 
color  in  my  cheeks.  If  we  were  composed  of  four  concen 
tric  circles,  I  can  say  the  three  outer  ones  approximate  a 
healthy  and  natural  state.  But  the  fourth,  the  innermost, 
the  central  core,  what  can  I  say  of  that  ?  I  dare  not  look 
in  there,  I  dare  not  reflect  upon  myself.  One  thing,  I  have 
no  real  guilt  to  harass  me  ;  I  only  call  to  mind  my  follies. 
My  ambition  has  ever  centered  upon  a  solitary  acquisition, 
and  for  that  alone  have  the  energies  of  my  being  been 
spent,  sympathy ;  an  all-appreciating,  tender,  great,  solemn 
sympathy.  Beguiled  by  this  desire,  I  mistook  the  demon 
strations  of  a  selfish  passion  for  tokens  of  a  noble  heart. 
Betrayed  beyond  the  bounds  of  strict  propriety,  I  became 
an  object  of  the  censure  of  mankind.  Too  proud  to  con 
fess,  or  too  much  confounded  to  explain  my  innocence,  I 
suffered  the  penalties  of  positive  infamy.  It  always  seemed 
ot  me  that  I  was  placid  by  nature,  and  moderate  in  my  sen 
sations.  This  opposition  created  in  me  a  new  nature  ;  my 
calamities  have  imparted  heat  to  my  temper  and  acrimony 
to  my  judgment.  I  became  impetuous,  vehement,  and,  as 
it  were,  possessed.  A  new  consciousness  was  revived,  both 
of  what  I  was  and  of  what  the  world  was.  Up  to  that  time 
I  had  floated  on  with  tolerable  serenity,  trusting  myself  and 
others,  and  ever  hoping  for  the  best.  Then  commenced 
my  contention  and  despair.  I  became  all  at  once  sensible 
of  myself  in  a  new  way  ;  as  one  does  in  whose  bosom  literal 
coals  of  fire  are  put.  My  heart  swelled  to  enormous  pro 
portions  ;  it  became  diseased,  and  dreadfully  painful.  It 
spread  itself  through  my  system,  tyrannized  over  my 
thought,  and  fed  upon  the  choicest  strength  of  my  being. 
My  intellect  was  darkened,  I  became  an  atheist.  Under 
VOL.  ii.  18 


206  MARGARET. 

these  circumstances,  which  you  already  know  something 
about,  after  having  long  kept  it  hidden,  I  declared  myself 
to  Margaret.  She  had  sufficient  penetration  to  understand 
me  and  magnanimity  to  love  me  ;  she  awed  me  by  her 
superior,  uniform  goodness.  I  availed  myself  of  a  moment 
when  she  was  in  tears  to  unfold  the  cause  of  my  own.  I 
rejoiced  in  her  weakness,  because  I  thought  thereby  I  could 
find  entrance  to  her  greatness.  The,  melancholy,  to  me 
most  melancholy,  events  of  her  brother's  dtath,  I  need  not 
recapitulate. 

When  we  left  Livingston,  I  seemed  to  be  driven  on  as  by 
the  elements ;  whither  or  how  I  cared  not.  I  had  some 
tact,  and  my  connection  with  the  Theatre,  it  was  said, 
would  be  an  advantage  to  the  company.  Indeed,  it  was 
hinted,  that  I  might  become  a  Star  !  Ah,  how  I  should 
have  shone  !  This  new  life  glittered  before  me,  and  into 
the  prospect  I  threw  whatever  power  of  resolution  or  hope 
I  had  remaining.  Margaret  agreed  to  abide  ever  with  me 
and  aid  me  as  she  could ;  while  I  was  to  earn  the  liveli 
hood  for  us  both. 

One  good  I  did  derive  from  this  adventure,  self- forgetful- 
ness.  1  attained  a  sort  of  ecstasy  of  outward  delight ;  and, 
will  you  believe  it?  I  grew  better.  This  external  happiness 
sank  into  my  being  deeper  and  deeper ;  it  chased  away  my 
regrets,  it  healed  my  morbidness.  My  evil  and  distress 
seemed  to  diminish.  I  was  becoming  cleansed  and  purified. 
Can  you  understand  this?  The  happier  I  waxed  the  more 
reconciled  I  became,  and  the  strife  between  what  I  was  and 
what  I  would  be,  between  my  hopes  and  my  calamities, 
ceased.  Self-forgetfulness  the  road  to  virtue !  What  will 
you  divines  say  to  that  ? 

All  at  once  we  were  thrown  into  your  house,  where  all  is 
so  elegant,  so  serene,  so  pure,  so  affectionate.  Tour  good- 


ROSE    TO    EDWARD    JONES.  207 

ness,  Sir,  startled  me.  I  dare  not  be  left  alone  with  you. 
When  you  spoke,  it  agonized  me.  You  recalled  me  to  myself. 
If  you  had  been  only  good,  I  believe  I  should  have  died,  or 
run  away.  Anna  came  to  your  aid.  You  were  a  man. 
Can  a  man  understand  a  woman  ?  Margaret  says  he  can. 
I  have  denied  it.  I  needed  more  than  your  goodness,  I 
needed  sympathy,  sympathy  with  my  feelings,  my  wretch 
edness,  my  wickedness  even.  Could  you  render  it  ?  I  had 
a  woman's  need  of  sympathy  ;  could  any  man  give  it  ? 
Many  and  painful  were  the  struggles  I  underwent.  Now 
that  I  am  away  from  you  I  can  speak  more  freely  and  com 
posedly,  as  I  know  you  will  and  must  allow  me  to  do. 
Margaret  says  my  smile  bewitched  you  ;  a  game  it  has 
more  than  once  practised.  How  fervently  have  I  prayed  for 
a  Medusa  face !  But  it  was  not  that ;  it  was  your  kind  feel 
ings  that,  as  of  old, "  took  me  in."  Then  your  good  minister 
spoke  so  discriminatingly  and  benevolently  to  me.  Truly 
I  can  say,  never  man  spake  like  that  man.  But  could  you 
reach  my  heart,  could  you  underlie  my  deepest  feelings, 
could  you  sustain,  heal  and  assure  that  which  your  pres 
ence  animated  into  painful  life  ?  Let  me  not  disquiet  you 
by  questions  like  these.  But  I  have  no  alternative  ;  either 
I  must  describe  my  whole  estate,  or  retreat  from  you  for 
ever.  You,  in  effect,  demand  a  disclosure,  and  Margaret 
urges  me  to  make  it  in  full.  I  have  not  seen  a  great  deal 
of  the  world,  but  I  have  felt  enough  of  it.  I  have  become 
suspicious  of  men,  not  of  their  motives  altogether,  or  of  their 
wishes,  or  kindness,  but  of  their  moral  capability. 

Then,  whatever  benefit  the  theatre  afforded,  I  am  de 
riving  in  a  purer  manner  and  larger  measure  here.  All 
kinds  of  diversion  are  at  our  command.  We  have  purchased 
horses,  and  can  ride ;  we  have  boats,  and  can  sail ;  we  have 
woods  and  walks.  We  work,  too,  weed  the  garden,  drive 


208  MARGARET. 

the  cow  to  pasture,  feed  the  poultry,  wash  dishes  and  wind 
spools.  We  have  leisure  and  books.  Beyond  this,  am  I 
prepared  to  encounter  the  world  in  the  particular  manner 
you  propose  to  conduct  me  to  it  ?  I  have  left  it,  I  have 
bade  it  a  long  adieu.  I  will  not  say  I  hate  it,  only  I  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Margaret,  with  all  that  op 
presses  her  so  sensibly,  is  still  elastic,  hearty,  luxuriant. 
She  has  a  great  being,  and  evil  floats  through  her  and 
passes  away.  I  am  so  contracted  and  small  it  all  lodges  in 
me  and  propagates  itself  through  my  whole  existence.  Or 
at  least,  so  great  is  her  power  of  self-recupertion,  if  the 
whole  globe  were  heaped  upon  her  she  would  make  her 
way  up  through  it;  and  not  only  so,  she  would  assimilate 
its  elements  to  her  nature,  and  convert  its  forces  to  her  uses. 
A  cloud  that  drives  me  home  for  shelter  against  the  rain, 
only  enhances  the  beauty  of  her  Universe.  Then  her  com 
passion  is  so  quick,  and  her  ministries  so  gentle,  while  I  am 
cold  and  stubborn  to  the  wants  or  woes  of  all  She,  too,  is 
a  believer  in  Christ,  which  I  am  not,  or  at  least  in  the  sense 
that  she  is.  Her  faith  is  life-giving,  soul-penetrating,  noble, 
luminous,  purifying.  Mine,  all  that  I  ever  had,  was  a  me 
chanical,  artificial,  vulgar  sort  of  calculation.  I  was  once 
converted,  indeed ;  but  I  have  sadly  fallen  away.  At  the 
best,  I  am  but  a  poor  Christian,  truly.  Margaret,  I  know, 
never  sinned.  I  have  sinned  day  by  day.  I  say  not  these 
things  to  commend  her,  but  to  reveal  myself. 

Shall  I  turn  to  the  other  more  significant,  and,  so  far  as 
this  question  is  concerned,  more  weighty  reflections? — the 
formidable  fourth  circle,  I  mean  ;  a  combination  of  impres 
sions,  characteristics,  substances,  of  not  the  most  auspicious 
nature.  Forgetting  yon,  I  forget  that.  With  you,  that 
revives.  It  is,  I  would  fain  believe,  drawing  to  a  diminished 
d'ameter ;  its  action  is  reduced,  it  beats  with  a  less  audible 
pulse.  It  is  a  woman's  broken  heart,  a  woman's  despair  • 


ROSE    TO    EDWARD    JONES.  209 

it  is  a  woman's  feebleness,  acute  delicacy,  shrinking  sensi 
tiveness,  high  sentiment  of  honor  and  low  consciousness  of 
disgrace,  all  thrown  in  together.  What  would  you  do  with 
it  ?  What  would  it  do  with  you  ?  What  would  you  do 
with  such  a  woman  ?  There  is  a  bird,  Margaret  says,  that 
crosses  sheets  of  water  on  the  leaves  of  the  floating  lily ; 
can  you  cross  me  so?  There  is  anmher  bird  that  refuses 
to  drink  of  streams  and  pools,  and  only  catches  the  drops  as 
they  fall  from  the  skies.  I  have  refused  to  quench  my 
thirst  at  common  sources,  and  whither  shall  I  look  ?  Dearest 
Edward,  I  must  yield  to  your  judgment  what  I  dare  not  to 
your  love — myself.  You  will  have  need  of  strength,  as 
well  as  affection,  if  you  take  me.  On  your  soberest  discre 
tion  I  can  alone  rely.  Seeing  how  I  am,  is  it  in  your  power 
to  make  me  what  I  should  be  ? 

How  we  long  for  Mr.  Evelyn's  return !  I  am  sure  Mar 
garet  loves  him.  When  I  tell  her  so,  she  smiles,  and  says, 
"  Yes,  and  Edward  Jones,  too."  But  I  know  she  desires 
my  consent  to  your  wishes,  and  I  think  she  would  feel  bad 
ly  to  have  Mr.  Evelyn  marry  abroad !  But  what  an  ad 
mirable  wife  she  would  make  you.  This,  sub  Rosa  !  Per 
haps  we  shall  both  set  up  a  convent  here  and  feed  poor 
children.  Margaret  is  all  there  is  left  me  in  this  world  ; 
and  I,  who  am  the  whole  cause  of  her  sorrows,  still  live  on 
her  bounty.  I  am  a  last  year's  leaf  that  I  have  sometimes 
seen  on  the  beech  trees,  blanched  and  dry,  still  cleaving  to 
the  brightness  and  bloom  of  her  Spring-time. 
Your  very  dutiful  and  truly  humble 

ROSE. 

EXTRACT  FROM  ROSE  TO  EDWARD. 

Mr.  Evelyn  has  come !     The  effect,  I  am  sure,  was  not 
small  on  Margaret.     The  night  before,  she  did  not  sleep  a 

18* 


210  MARGARET. 

wink,  for  she  kept  me  awake  till  morning.  Pa  and  Ma,  as 
I  call  her  father  and  mother,  were  for  fixing  up  a  little,  but 
she  would  allow  no  change.  She  half  smiled  and  half  cried 
by  turns ;  her  face  went  through  all  the  variations  of  the 
prism.  Mr.  Evelyn  had  forwarded  a  kind  note,  saying  he 
would  like  to  see  her  alone.  She  took  me  with  her  down 
the  Delectable  Way  to  an  old  haunt  of  her's,  where  she 
first  encountered  him.  I  would  have  withdrawn,  but  she 
held  me  fast.  We  heard  his  horse  coming  up  the  hill. 
"  This  is  a  strange  feeling,"  said  she  ;  "  is  this  what  you 
you  mean  by  love,  Rose?"  She  nevjer  looked  more  beauti 
ful.  Her  heron's  wreath  set  off  her  rich  dark  curls  ;  she 
wore  a  simple  muslin  ;  her  expression  might  have  ravished 
an  angel.  Mr.  Evelyn  left  his  horse  and  came  forward. 
Hardly  could  she  articulate  my  name  in  the  introduction 
By  an  instantaneous  and  almost  invisible  act,  their  hearts 
so  long  one,  sealed  the  unison.  I  had  anticipated  something, 
but  I  was  excited  and  enchanted.  Margaret  has  fair,  wo 
manly  proportions  ;  Mr.  Evelyn  is  tall,  and  of  so  noble  a 
carriage; — to  see  them  in  that  pure  embrace,  and  with  such 
an  inter-penetration  of  soul  and  spirit,  quite  overpowered 
me.  Deacon  Ramsdill  came  limping  along  with  one  of  his 
queerest  of  all  smiles — "  Sheer  nater  ;  just  so  when  I  was  a 
youngster,"  said  he,  and  so  diverted  us  from  a  fit  of  crying 
into  which  /  am  sure  I  should  have  fallen.  Mr.  Evelyn 
was  then  introduced  to  Pa,  Ma,  and  Hash.  He  made  in 
quiries  after  Chilion,  which  we  could  only  answer  with 
our  tears. 

We  have  sometimes  wondered  that  he  never  wrote  Mar 
garet,  but  he  says  his  letters  were  lost  on  the  way.  She 
showed  him  some  autumnal  leaves  and  flowers  she  gath 
ered  and  has  kept  in  remembrance  of  him.  These  were 
her  letters  to  him,  dumb  signals,  that  she  preserved  in  the 


MEETING  OF  MARGARET  AND  MR.  EVELYN.      211 

garret !  She  has  loved  him,  I  do  insist ;  but  that  lively  pain 
of  love  we  girls  are  so  wont  to  indulge  perhaps  she  has 
not  felt.  This  may  be  partly  owing — such  is  my  solution 
— to  the  strange,  rapid,  distressing  scenes  she  has  been 
through  since  she  first  saw  him. 

Mr.  Evelyn  has  taken  the  spare  room  at  Aunt  Wright's. 
There  is  a  cause  of  sorrow  in  that  family,  which,  I  fear,  will 
not  soon  be  removed.  Aunt  has  long  had  her  heart  set  on 
Margaret  for  cousin  Obed.  This  interest  did  not  abate  on 
Margaret's  accession  to  fortune.  Though  I  believe  Obed 
had,  if  not  his  hopes  damped,  at  least  his  ideas  of  things 
very  much  chastened  by  his  trip  abroad.  The  world  is  so 
large,  and  there  are  so  many  men  in  it,  I  think  he  had  re 
linquished  whatever  thoughts  he  may  have  entertained  of 
Margaret.  In  addition,  her  connection  with  Chilion  has  of 
late  inspired  him  with  a  secret  dread  of  her.  But  none 
of  these  things  availed  with  his  mother,  who  has  rendered 
herself  positively  annoying  by  urging  the  fulfilment  of  cer 
tain  promises  she  says  Margaret  made  in  years  gone  by. 
However,  the  matter  is  settled  now,  and  Aunt,  who  always 
taught  that  a  bird  in  hand  was  better  than  two  in  the  bush, 
freely  consented  to  admit  to  her  house  the  rival  of  its  pros 
pects,  when  she  found  he  would  pay  handsomely  for  his 
board. 


EXTRACT    FROM    ROSE    TO    WINIFRED  JONES. 

The  marriage  came  off  last  night.  The  service  was  done 
by  Parson  Welles,  who  really  seemed  to  be  as  happy  as 
the  rest  of  us.  How  delighted  we  were  to  have  Edward 
and  Anna  here !  There  were  also  present  a  few  other  of 
the  select  friends  of  the  family.  We  assembled  in  the 
kitchen.  It  was  my  office  to  light  up  the  great  fireplace  ; 


212  MARGARET. 

Edward  was  master  of  ceremonies.  Mrs.  Weeks  sent  the 
cake ;  there  was  wine  for  our  friends ;  we  ourselves  have 
eschewed  spirituous  drinks.  I  need  not  say  how  some  of  us 
were  reminded  of  another  night  and  other  scenes.  It  was  to 
my  own  eye  a  scene  within  a  scene,  beauty,  love  and  life, 
haunted  by  profanity,  revelry  and  death.  Deacon  Rams- 
dill  was  almost  beside  himself  with  joy,  and  Master  Elli- 
man  with  joy  and  wine.  Mr.  Girardeau  seems  to  be  very 
much  pleased  with  the  disposition  Margaret  has  made  of 
herself,  and  Mrs.  Wiswall  and  Bertha  think  there  is  nobody 
like  Mr.  Evelyn  ;  so  do  I,  excepting,  of  course,  Edward. 

What  can  I  say  of  your  dear  brother,  and  now  my  own 
love  ?     He  is  all  I  wished — wished  ?  all  I  needed.     I  shall 
begin  to  believe,  with  Margaret,  that  love  is  more  powerful 
than  all  evil.     He  risks  much  in  taking  me ;  not  that  I  am 
much,  but  that  I  am  mean.     He  promises  to  sustain  all  my\ 
feebleness,  and  repair  my  defects.     He  bears  me  in  his  own  \ 
arms  to  the  Infinite  arms.     Through  him  streams  upon  my 
soul  the  long  hidden  light  of  God.      The  Christ  whom  he 
preaches  I  begin  to  love  and  adore.      He  does  understand  / 
my  heart,  and  composing  with,  uplifts  my  whole  nature  into 
serenity  and  peace. 

Margaret  and  Mr.  Evelyn  are  going  on  a  journey  ;  in 
the  mean  time,  we  clear  out  the  workshop,  and  fit  it  up  for 
their  return. 

MARGARET    TO    ANNA. 

Our  excursion  was  rich  and  blest  indeed.  In  New  York, 
we  saw  the  room  where  I  was  born,  and  the  bed,  even, 
whereon  my  father  and  mother  died.  Nimrod  was  with  us 
and  showed  us  every  thing.  The  clergyman  who  married 
my  dear  parents  is  dead,  but  in  Baltimore  we  found  his 


IN    SEARCH    OF    HER    CHILDHOOD.  213 

daughter,  who  bore  me  to  her  father's,  and  nourished  me  like 
a  mother.  My  grandfather's  abode,  the  shop  where  my 
mother  tended,  the  room  where  she  slept,  were  all  entered, 
In  one  of  the  cemeteries  their  graves  were  shown  to  us. 
near  that  of  my  grandmother ;  the  monument  bore  the 
names,  GOTTFRIED  BRUCKMANN,  and  JANE  GIRARDEATJ. 
My  grandfather,  when  he  knew  not  where  I  was,  became 
sorrowful  on  his  daughter's  account,  and  had  her  remains 
removed  where  they  now  lie.  My  dear,  dear  mother ! 
The  inscription  says  she  was  twenty  years  old  ;  so  near  her 
poor  orphan  daughter's  age  !  New  fountains  of  grief  are 
opened  in  my  soul.  I  am  persuaded  the  pale  beautiful 
lady  of  my  childhood  dreams  was  none  other  than  my 
mother.  She  has  watched  over  her  child,  she  has  blessed 
the  earth-wanderer! — We  went  up  the  Hudson,  whither 
Nimrod  and  Ben  Bolter  carried  me ;  we  stopped  at  the 
same  landing-place  ;  we  found  the  Irish  woman  who  nursed 
me,  and  I  was  glad  to  be  able  to  repay  her  kindness.  We 
went  to  Windenboro,'  Rose's -native  town,  but  found  little  to 
relieve  the  impressions  that  may  have  occupied  us.  To 
our  inquiries  about  their  old  minister,  we  received  but  few 
warm-hearted  replies.  The  successor  of  Mr.  Elphiston, 
while  he  preaches  a  milder  form  of  dogma,  exhibits  less 
benignity  of  feeling.  I  hesitated  about  speaking  of,  these 
things  to  Rose ;  but  she  said  she  could  bear  any  thing,  that 
that  part  of  herself  once  devoted  to  these  painful  reminis 
cences,  through  successive  processes  of  anguish,  remorse 
and  penitence,  had  become  hollow. 

We  have  a  manuscript  life  of  my  father,  done  in  English, 
with  my  mother's  correction  ;  also,  in  various  forms,  my 
mother's  handwriting.  We  possess  likewise  several 
letters  from  Margaret  Bruneau  to  Gottfried  Briickmann, 
and  some  of  his  to  her,  which  Mr.  Evelyn  found  in  Rubil- 


214  MARGARET, 

laud.  The  clothes  of  my  father  and  mother,  his  flute, 
violin,  and  several  other  little  things  are  here.  Mr.  Evelyn 
visited  the  grave  of  Margaret  Bruneau,  which  he  found 
covered  with  flowers.  Her  letters  are  full  of  sweet  sim 
plicity  and  holy  love.  All  whom  he  saw  extolled  her 
virtues.  In  Pyrmont,  he  found  a  brother  of  my  father's, 
whom  we  hope  to  be  able  to  persuade  to  come  to  America. 
Withal,  in  our  travels  we  heard  of  a  German  soldier  in  the 
interior  of  Pennsylvania  who  served  in  the  same  corps 
with  my  father.  Him  also  we  visited. 

I  have  been  travelling  in  search  of  my  childhood  !  An 
unknown  history  opens  to  me.  I  have  been  living  here 
how  unconsciously  with  Ma,  who  is  the  cousin  of  my  mother. 
Yet  she  has  treated  me  as  her  own  child.  I  was  confided 
especially  to  the  care  of  Chilion,  whom  Nimrod  told  my 
mother  about.  How  well  he  executed  his  charge  !  The 
change  in  my  grandfather's  name,  and  that  of  Nimrod, 
prevented  all  recognizances  for  many  years.  I  know  not 
that  Ma  ever  understood  the  relation  subsisting  between 
us.  This  past,  how  precious  to  me !  Hidden  events 
scattered  over  many  years,  and  many  countries,  become  a 
part  of  my  biography.  It  has  taken  a  whole  century  to 
give  me  birth  !  Time,  like  Mother  Carey's  chickens,  bides 
the  blast,  rocks  on  the  gulfy  wave,  bearing  her  eggs  under 
her  wings,  which  she  deposits  at  length  on  the  broody 
shore.  In  me  shall  these  transactions  be  cherished  into 
life  !  Do  I  deprecate  the  evil  that  has  befallen  me  and 
mine;  that  shed  itself  on  these  by-gone  years?  Dust 
sometimes  falls  with  the  purest  snow,  discoloring  the  face  of 
Winter,  but  it  enriches  the  growth  and  enhances  the  beauty 
of  Spring.  Shall  I  become  be-er  as  a  new  season  of 
existence  opens  to  me  ? 


IN    SEARCH    OF    HER    CHILDHOOD.  215 

Our  house  is  begun,  but  it  must  necessarily  move  on 
slowly.  We  hope  to  be  able  to  go  into  it,  or  some  part  of 
it,  in  the  course  of  twelve  or  fourteen  months.  It  stands 
on  the  Delectable  Way,  near  the  Eastern  margin  of  the 
Pond.  It  will  command  a  more  extensive  Western  view 
than  we  now  enjoy,  taking  in  the  whole  length  of  the  Pond, 
the  Brandon  Hills,  and  Umkiddin  Through  avenues  that 
we  shall  cut  in  the  Maples  will  be  seen  the  Village,  the 
River,  the  Meadows,  the  champagne  country,  and  moun 
tains  beyond.  At  the  South  will  be  opened  the  valley  of 
Mill  Brook  and  the  neighboring  highlands.  The  space 
between  the  house  and  Butternut  is  to  be  converted  into  a 
garden.  It  is  to  be  constructed  of  granite,  of  which  an 
abundance,  and  that  of  the  finest  quality,  is  found  in  the 
neighborhood.  We  have  an  architect  from  New  York  - 

O  5 

Mr.  Palmer  from  the  Ledge  is  master  workman.  Of  the 
style  I  shall  say  but  little,  nor  repeat  the  discussions  we 
have  had  on  the  subject,  nor  tell  what  a  world  of  ideas  has 
burst  like  a  revelation  on  a  rustic  girl's  mind  in  the  shape 
of  buttresses,  wings,  bow-windows,  verandas,  views  here, 
effects  there,  good  old  Queen  Bess,  and  what  not.  Mr. 
Evelyn  knew  more  of  the  world,  and  it  was  right  I  should 
yield  to  him.  His  travels  abroad  have  tinged,  and  perhaps 
moulded,  his  taste.  It  will  have,  I  fancy,  a  slightly  cas 
tellated  appearance  ;  so  at  least  it  looks  on  paper.  It  is  to 
be  ample  in  all  its  appointments.  Mr.  Evelyn  talks  of 
effect,  the  high  grounds,  woods,  and  all  that ;  entire 
simplicity  he  objects  to.  Without  ever  giving  any  reflec 
tion  to  the  matter,  I  found  Master  Elliman  had  in  fact 
indoctrinated  me  with  a  love  of  the  plain  Grecian.  But 
not  as  a  dwelling-house,  and  here,  Mr.  Evelyn  says,  only 
as  a  Temple  or  Church.  We  are  to  have  a  room  for 
Music  and  Art,  one  for  Natural  History  and  Philosophy,  a 


216  MARGARET. 

Library,  Conservatory,  Aviary,  and  all  that,  and  a  plenty 
of  rooms  for  our  friends.  There  are  also  extensive  barns 
and  outhouses. 

We  have  gained  a  title  to  the  whole  of  Mons  Christi,  by 
purchasing  the  complete  environs  of  the  Pond,  and  a 
square  mile  of  territory  on  the  North  and  West.  We  are 
clearing  away  woods,  and  bringing  many  acres  of  excellent 
soil  under  cultivation.  There  are  nearly  one  hundred 
men  employed  in  all  departments,  and,  if  you  will  believe 
it,  I  do  not  think  they  consume  more  than  three  gallons  of 
spirit  a  day.  We  are  widening  and  grading  the  Delectable 
Way  into  a  carriage  road.  Pa  and  Hash  have  both  left 
off  drinking,  and  are  busy  and  happy  as  need  be.  Hash 
and  Sibyl  Radney  will  be  married  as  soon  as  we  shall  have 
finished  their  house.  Hash  superintends  the  farm  ;  Nim- 
rod  and  Rhody  are  anxious  to  remove  here  ;  it  is  his 
ambitition  to  take  care  of  the  barn  and  horses.  He  has 
become  our  jockey,  and  went  out  lately  and  made  us  a 
purchase  of  some  beautiful  Narragansetts,  with  draught  and 
carriage  horses.  Master  Elliman  comes  up,  stares  about, 
applies  his  red  handkerchief  to  his  nostrils,  and  the  other 
day  frankly  confessed  there  were  realities  in  the  universe. 
People  from  the  Village,  Avernus,  and  all  parts,  visit  us 
and  gaze  wonderingly  upon  our  works.  Joyce  Dooly,  the 
Fortune-teller,  was  here  the  other  day,  with  her  black  cats. 
Mounting  a  rock  she  harangued  the  people,  or,  rather, 
clackered  her  own  merit.  She  said  she  had  brought  about 
this  change,  had  foretold  it  all,  and  seen  it  in  her  cats. 
Rufus  Palmer,  who  is  really  a  genius,  is  engaged  on 
statuary,  from  plates  Mr.  Evelyn  brought  from  Europe. 

Side  by  side,  in  the  midst  of  the  noise  of  hammers  and 
the  shouting  of  teamsters,  on  the  beach,  in  funeral  silence 
lie  my  canoe  and  Chilion's  fish-boat.  His  viol  hangs  in  our 


THE    NEW    CHURCH.  217 

room  ;  unlike  St.  Dunstan's,  it  makes  no  music  !  In  Nova 
Zembla,  it  is  reported,  men's  words  are  wont  to  be  frozen 
in  the  air,  and  at  the  thaw  may  be  heard.  In  a  cold  grave, 
and  colder  world,  are  all  Chilion's  sweet  melodies  frozen. 
Will  they  ever  be  heard  again  ? 

******** 

They  are  building  a  Church  in  the  village.  We  fur 
nished  the  balance  of  the  subscription  for  that  purpose,  and 
they  have  adopted  a  model  suggested  by  Mr.  Evelyn. 
The  Church  will  suit  me  ;  it  is  pure,  that  is  to  say,  elegant, 
Grecian.  It  is  now  decided  to  form  a  new  society,  and  one 
with  which  Mr.  Evelyn  has  connected  himself.  It  is  called 
Christ  Church.  The  house  stands  on  the  east  side  of  the 
Green,  under  two  stately  elms,  and  forms  a  prominent 
object  from  our  dwelling.  The  Free  Masons,  in  full 
company  and  costume,  laid  the  corner  stone.  Deacon 
Hadlock,  the  main  pillar  of  the  old  Church,  is  inconsolable 
and  inapproachable.  Mr.  Evelyn  went  to  see  him,  but  he 
would  not  be  persuaded.  We  offered  them  a  sum  of 
money  towards  rebuilding  the  old  Meeting-house,  but  it 
was  rejected.  I  need  not  tell  you  all  the  gossip  that  is 
afloat  between  the  two  societies,  or  write  how  our  people 
say  the  others  are  endeavoring  things  to  their  prejudice. 
There  is  probably  some  wrong  feeling  on  both  sides.  The 
Master  was  here  to-day,  and  said  they  had  several  meet 
ings  of  the  old  Church,  reported  grievances,  appointed 
committees,  and  ordered  an  examination  of  the  derelicts  ; 
and  finally  excommunicated  Deacon  Ramsdill  and  Esq. 
Weeks,  and  suspended  Judge  Morgridge  and  Esq.  Beach. 
He  laughed  himself  into  a  perfect  dry  convulsion  fit  when 
he  told  me.  "  That  android  sanctissimus,"  said  he,  refer 
ring  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Brimmerly  of  Kidderminster,  "  is 
moving.  That  gentleman,"  he  said,  "had  held  several 

VOL.  n.  19 


218  MARGARET. 

private  conferences  with  Parson  Wells."  Reports  unfavor 
able  to  the  reputation  of  Mrs.  Wiswall,  who  has  taken  a 
house  in  town,  of  Bertha,  and  of  Rose,  too,  have  reached 
here,  and  we  are  called  a  harboring  place  of  unprincipled 

persons,  a  community  of 

Deacon  Ramsdill  was  here  this  afternoon  ;  he  has  not 
been  deprived  of  his  good  cheer.  "  They  have  picked  us 
out,"  said  he,  "  and  thrown  us  to  the  hogs.  But  arter  all," 
he  added,  "  rotten  apples  are  the  sweetest." 


MARGARET    TO    ANNA. 

What  shall  you  think  of  Edward  being  our  Minister, 
and  Rose  our  Minister's  wife  !  On  the  election,  there 
could  have  been  but  one  sentiment,  as  you  know  there  was 
but  one  voice.  His  views  and  feelings,  and  the  character 
of  his  discourses,  precluded  much  disputation.  We  had 
some  difficulty  in  the  Ordination.  A  council  of  Clerical 
and  Lay  Delegates,  from  the  County,  assembled,  examined 
the  candidate  and  rejected  him.  Parson  Welles,  I  believe, 
was  at  first  disposed  to  have  Edward  for  a  colleague,  and 
retain  a  pastoral  connection  with  Christ  Church  ;  but  he 
was  diverted  by  causes  which  I  do  not  understand.  The 
Church  was  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  adopting  other 
measures.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Freeman,  of  your  city,  was  sent 
for,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lovers,  of  Brandon,  who  had  ex 
pressed  a  willingness  to  aid  us.  Mr  Lovers  preached  the 
sermon,  and  the  ordaining  prayer,  with  the  imposition  of 
hands,  was  made  by  Mr.  Freeman.  Thus,  Mr.  Evelyn 
say?,  though  Dr.  Freeman,  who  was  himself  Episcopally 
ordained,  and  derives  his  authority  frorri  a  succession  said 
to  remount  to  the  first  ages  of  the  Church,  we  have  an 


THE    NEW    CHURCH.  219 

Apostolic  Bishop  ordained  over  this  Diocese  of  Livingston  ! 
The  nt'w  spacious  house  was  filled,  and  many  came  in  from 
abroad.  At  the  close,  the  Sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper 
was  administered  to  the  congregation.  /  joined  in  the 
participation.  With  what  sensations  I  cannot  now  relate. 
Springs  of  new  water  welled  within  me,  the  soul  of  Jesus 
oppressed  and  charmed  my  soul.  Poor  Rose  sat  by  me 
trembling  like  a  leaf. — We  have  ordered  an  Organ  from 
London,  and  I  suppose  it  will  fall  to  me  and  Rosa  to  play 
it,  for  the  present  at  least.  Tony,  the  Barber,  plays  the 
violin  for  us.  He  has  not  touched  his  instrument  before 
since  Chilion's  death.  How  we  miss  Chilion  at  every 
step ! 

Edward  and  Rose  are  boarding  at  Esquire  Bowker's; 
a  Parsonage  I  suppose  will  be  built  for  them  next  year,  on 
Grove  Street.  Rose  says  the  only  feeling  she  has,  or  of 
which  she  is  at  present  capable,  is  humility  ;  and  that 
whether  she  estimates  her  duties  to  the  world  at  large,  or 
reflects  on  the  favors  received  in  her  own  soul.  She  relies 
on  Edward,  who  will  nourish,  renovate  and  guide  her.  If 
she  can  at  all  embody  the  graces,  or  disseminate  the  love 
of  Christ,  in  whom  her  faith  is  confirmed,  she  says  she 
shall  be  satisfied.  She  says  she  is  like  those  trees  which  fall 
over  on  the  banks  of  rivers,  and  grow  root  upwards ;  but  if 
she  only  grows,  she  does  not  care  how.  She  is  fair  almost 
to  fragility ;  she  has  at  times  a  most  mysteriously  spiritual 
look,  like  the  moon  shining  through  white  window  curtains. 
There  are  those  in  the  Church  who  truly  love  her,  and 
will  tenderly  treat  her.  In  Mrs.  Bowker  and  Isabel 
Weeks  she  finds  a  most  according  friendship.  To  Edward 
she  is  all  in  all.  How  good  and  great  in  him  to  love  her 
so  !  Her  unnaturalness  has  gradually  subsided,  and  the 
sweetness  and  freshness  of  her  youth  begin  rapidly  to  un- 


220  MARGARET. 

fold.  Christ,  that  makes  us  all  children,  Edward  says,  has 
reproduced  the  morning  of  her  childhood,  and  she  advances 
to  beautiful  perfection.  —  She  had  often  been  to  the  Com 
munion  before,  she  says,  but  never  with  such  feelings.  She 
ne^ver  before  realized  what  our  new  Bishop  said  it  was,  an 
inter-communing  with  the  soul  of  Jesus.  She  is  succulent 
as  the  Widow's  house  leek,  and  would  thrive  I  believe  if 
she  were  only  attached  to  the  shingles  of  Christ  Church. 
Like  the  dodder,  her  rooting  in  the  old  world  is  destroyed, 
and  she  now  winds  about  goodness  and  mercy,  which  she  is 
destined,  I  think,  ever  to  adorn.  Dear  Rose,  she  has  been 
to  me  a  child,  a  sister,  a  lover.  She  will  always  be  near 
me  —  can  we  be  too  happy  ?  For  all,  how  much  are  we 
indebted  to  Edward  and  Mr.  Evelyn  !  The  friendship  so 
long  subsisting  between  our  husbands,  how  delightfully  it  is 
consummated  ! 


MARGARET     TO    ANNA. 

Our  house  is  finished,  and  what  has  been  a  long  story  to 
us,  I  shall  make  a  short  one  to  you  ;  which  can  be  done  the 
more  readily,  since  I  hope  you  will  soon  come  and  see  all 
things  for  yourself.  The  expense  within  and  without,  Mr. 
Evelyn  says,  has  not  been  less  than  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars.  We  have  imported  some  things,  not  that  Mr. 
Evelyn  would  not  have  preferred  domestic  articles,  but 
many  we  could  not  find.  Besides,  what  matters  it  ?  I  am 
made  up  of  all  nations,  German,  French,  English,  Ameri 
can  ;  and  it  is  only  dealing  with  my  countrymen,  trade  with 
whomsoever  I  may.  You  should  not  have  introduced  me 
to  your  house  unless  you  supposed  I  was  more  or  less  than 
human.  Our  plate  certainly  does  not  equal  yours  ;  our 


THE    PANTHEON    REVITED.  221 

linen  is  home  made ;  our  curtains  and  hangings  are  very 
beautiful,  thanks  to  your  good  taste.  Mr.  Evelyn  brought 
from  Europe  a  valuable  library,  fine  maps  and  engravings, 
and  a  few  choice  pieces  of  sculpture.  We  have  since 
ordered  more  of  these  articles.  In  addition,  Rufus  Palmer 
has  been  engaged  on  statuary  for  us  these  two  years.  He 
is  now  in  Europe,  and  when  he  returns,  we  have  promised 
him,  in  exchange  for  his  productions,  our  Isabel ;  that  is,  if 
they  will  consent  to  take  up  their  residence  atMons  Christi. 
We  have  busts  of  the  old  philosophers,  a  copy  of  the  Venus 
de  Medici,  Apollo  Belvidere,  Antinous,  Belisarius,  a  Psyche 
and  Butterfly,  a  Prometheus  and  others,  and  some  excellent 
paintings ;  we  have  a  parlor  organ,  and  guitar ;  also  an 
excellent  set  of  chemical,  philosophical  and  astronomical 
instruments. 

At  the  head  of  the  Delectable  Way  stand  statues  of 
Peace  and  Truth ;  under  the  trees  in  front  of  the  house 
are  Faith,  Hope,  Love  and  Beauty.  Near  the  Tree-bridge, 
in  the  Via  Dolorosa,  we  design  to  put  Penitence  and 
Fortitude.  On  the  Via  Salutaris  is  Humanity,  A  Ceres 
has  been  set  up  in  our  cornfield.  In  Diana's  Walk  is  her 
own  Ladyship  with  the  Golden  Bow.  My  Pantheon,  that 
Mr.  Evelyn  used  to  banter  me  about,  still  remains,  and  my 
bubbles  have  taken  marble  forms.  Between  the  Butternut 
and  the  old  house  is  a  broad  opening  conducting  to  the  foot 
of  Mons  Christi,  which  we  call  The  Avenue  of  the  Beauti 
ful.  In  this  is  Temperance,  pouring  water  from  a  goblet 
into  a  marble  trough.  It  is  supplied  from  the  same  spring 
head  that  has  so  long  furnished  the  water  of  our  cistern, 
and  is  designed  both  for  man  and  beast.  On  it  hangs  Pa's 
silver  tankard,  which  he  himself  put  there,  the  only  relic  of 
his  former  prosperity,  and  which  he  is  glad  to  have  diverted 
from  its  customary  use.  This  water,  always  a  copious 


222  MARGARET. 

stream  coming  down  from  the  highlands  above,  serves  for 
a  fountain  in  the  garden,  where  its  jet  and  spray  may  be 
perpetually  seen,  and  flows  thence  to  our  house  and  barn  in 
quantity  sufficient  for  all  needs. 

When  we  formerly  made  our  escape  from  Mons  Christi 
to  the  Ledge,  Rufus  showed  me  a  figure  on  which  he  had 
been  hammering  at  his  leisure,  designed  to  represent  me 
as  I  was  when  I  found  the  water ;  this  he  has  since  com 
pleted.  It  is  a  perfect  Molly  Hart,  in  short  gown,  pinafore 
and  gypsy  hat.  Ma  wanted  it  put  in  the  old  house,  but 
there  seemed  to  be  no  room  for  it.  We  have  it  in  our 
drawing-room  ;  and  near  it  are  the  cherry  plate,  bowl  and 
spoon  I  used  to  eat  bread  and  cider  and  bean  porridge  with, 
and  also  the  wolf's  bone  knife  and  fork  Chilion  made  me. 

The  old  Chestnuts,  which  were  already  in  deCay,  have 
been  cut  down,  and  the  bounds  of  the  Mowing  enlarged. 
North  of  the  Mowing  is  an  extensive  young  orchard  of 
various  kinds  of  choice  apples,  pears,  quinces  and  peaches. 
Our  Aviary,  which  is  large  and  well  furnished  with  shrub 
bery,  we  intend  to  stock  with  native  birds.  In  the  Con 
servatory  we  have  some  foreign  plants,  and  shall  experi 
ment  more  with  the  domestic.  We  have  a  room  called  the 
Prophet's  Chamber,  which  our  Bishop  frequently  occupies, 
and  where  he  writes  some  of  his  sermons.  In  the  garden 
is  a  large  Bee-range.  The  old  house  remains  as  it  was, 
saving  repairs.  There  Pa  and  Ma  live.  The  loom  and 
'  wheels  have  been  restored  to  the  workshop,  and  there  sits 
Ma,  in  her  short  gown  and  naked  arms,  smoking  and 
weaving  us  blankets.  She  cannot  be  induced  to  forego  any 
of  her  old  habits.  Pa,  who  never  suffered  from  what  the 
Master  would  call  a  cacoethes  laboris  loves  and  enjoys  his 
ease.  He  has  made  us  stout  walking  shoes,  which  is  the 
most  he  has  done  for  a  year.  On  the-  chimney  are  my 


HOUSEHOLD  ARRANGEMENTS.  223 

marble  kitten  and  flower-pot.  About  the  house  still  grow 
my  beans,  hops,  virgin's  bower,  eye-brights,  blood-roots,  and 
other  flowers  Chilion  helped  me  rear.  Chilion's  clothes, 
fishing  tackle,  gun,  powder-horn,  shot-bag,  occupy  their  old 
places  on  the  walls  of  the  kitchen.  The  suit  in  which  he 
died,  his  violin,  a  partly-finished  basket  with  some  partly, 
finished  spools  of  his,  hang  in  the  work  shop  ;  Ma  will  not 
allow  them  to  be  touched.  Some  of  his  hair  she  has 
wrought  into  a  finger-ring.  Margaret,  my  peach  tree,  is 
dead,  but  a  young  Margaret  is  growing  in  the  same  spot. 
Dick,  my  squirrel,  and  my  birds  are  dead,  their  empty 
cages  hang  in  the  old  place.  Bull,  whose  heart,  as  well  as 
his  leg,  was  broke,  when  Chilion  died,  totters  backwards 
and  forwards  from  house  to  house.  So  have  perished  some 
of  the  de"ar  fellow-fixtures  and  comrades  of  my  life !  Be 
yond  Pa's,  stands  Nimrod's  house,  and  a  little  farther  up 
the  way,  live  Hash  and  Sibyl.  Grandfather,  who  is  exceed 
ingly  interested,  and  I  believe  pleased,  in  all  we  do,  divides 
his  time  between  us  and  Aunt  Wiswall.  Judah  Weeks  has 
promised  marriage  to  Cousin  Bertha.  Speaking  of  this, 
reminds  me  to  tell  you,  that  Obed  has  married  Beulah  Ann 
Orflf.  Mrs.  Evelyn,  the  good  mother  of  Charles,  has  also 
come  to  Livingston,  and  lives  with  us  for  the  present. 
*  *  #, ,  #  #  #  #  # 

You  inquire  what  our  household  arrangements  are  to  be. 
Our  regular  family  is  composed  of  Mr.  Evelyn,  myself, 
Sylvina  Pottle  and  Dorothy  Tapley.  Then  we  have  more 
or  less  of  our  friends  with  us  a  good  deal  of  the  time.  Mr. 
Pottle  has  a  large  number  of  children,  and  at  Mr.  Tapley's 
they  are  very  poor,  and  those  people  were  anxious  their 
daughters  should  live  with  us  and  earn  something.  Our 
food  is  simple ;  I  never  had  any  other,  and  what  is  bred  in 
the  bone  will  never  be  out  of  the  flesh,  as  Deacon  Rams- 


224  MARGARET. 

dill  says  ;  and  Mr.  Evelyn  is  not  particular.  I  still  enjoy 
a  dish  of  bean  porridge  with  Molly.  I  al \vays  got  up  early, 
and  could  not  easily  be  taught  new  tricks.  Then  I  have 
been  out  in  the  air  so  much  I  must  still  be  out.  We  have 
prayers  every  morning,  and  Mr.  Evelyn  explains  the 
Scriptures  to  us.  We  have  breakfasted  this  Summer  at 
six  and  a  half  o'clock,  dined  at  twelve,  and  take  tea  at  five. 
So  we  are  doing  at  present.  Our  hired  men  board  with 
Nimrod  and  Hash.  Ma  has  woven  a  working  suit  for  Mr. 
Evelyn.  We  have  both  had  our  hands  full  getting  the 
house  in  order.  I  look  for  leisure  this  winter  to  read  more, 
and  practise  music  more. 


MARGARET    TO     AlfNA. 

I  must  tell  you  of  a  delightful  change  that  has  come  over 
No.  4.  You  remember  how  the  place  looked  the  first  time 
you  were  through  it.  The  people  were  notorious  for  their 
indolence  and  dissipation  ;  and  their  estates  were  mortgaged 
to  Mr.  Smith,  who  held  the  inhabitants  in  fealty  and  some 
times  harassed  them.  Mr.  Evelyn  had  their  houses 
repaired  and  painted,  sent  men  to  help  clear  out  their  in 
tervals,  planted  a  row  of  trees  along  the  street,  and  had  a 
beautiful  statue  of  Diligence  set  up  at  the  coiner.  He  then 
assumed  their  debts,  and  said  he  would  give  them  no 
trouble  for  three  years,  provided  they  would  pay  the 
interest  punctually.  He  also  contributed  to  a  School-house 
that  was  erected  half  way  between  No.  4  and  Breakneck. 
In  six  months  the  Gubtails,  with  what  work  they  did  for  us, 
and  hay  they  brought  us,  cleared  themselves.  Mrs.  Tapley 
and  Mrs.  Hatch  wove  for  us,  and  Mr.  Hatch  and  Isaiah 
made  our  iron  work.  Old  Mr.  Tapley,  a  very  sot,  has 
labored  unremittingly  on  his  farm.  When  they  had  new 


PRISON    RENOVATED.  225 

door-yards,  the  girls  began  to  ornament  them  with  flowers 
and  shrubs.  We  let  Dorothy  go  into  the  woods  two  days 
for  this  purpose ;  and  that  hamlet  has  now  a  truly  pictu 
resque  appearance.  The  people,  I  think,  do  not  drink  any 
ardent  spirits.  The  Still,  that  Mr.  Smith  undertook  to 
rebuild,  Mr.  Evelyn  purchased  for  a  barn,  which  those 
people  found  they  needed.  Mr.  Smith  himself,  I  am  told, 
has  amended  his  habits  ;  he  has  at  least  renovated  the 
exterior  of  his  house.  Avernus  should  rather  be  called 
Elysium;  God  made  it  a  beautiful  spot,  and  man  has 
restored  its  fallen  image.  Nor  is  this  effect  confined  to 
No.  4;  it  has  reached  the  village,  and  is  more  or  less 
distributed  into  every  part  of  the  town.  Our  Bishop  says 
Temperance  is  a  Christian  grace,  and  has  preached  strongly 
against  the  Sin  of  Intemperance.  In  this  he  is  also  joined 
by  Parson  Welles,  who  still  preaches  in  the  Town-house. 
Many  have  abandoned  drinking,  and  four  distilleries  have 
stopped.  Mr.  Readfield,  our  new  merchant,  keeps  no 
ardent  spirits,  and  Deacon  Penrose  must  have  found  his 
sales  materially  lessened.  Esquires  Beach  and  Bowker 
both  say  their  duties,  as  Justices  of  the  Peace,  have  greatly 
abated.  Mr.  Stillwater  has  converted  his  new  bar-room 
into  a  reading-room,  and  says  his  profits  are  nearly  equal  to 
what  they  were  before.  On  Sunday  you  will  see  the  No. 
4's  flocking  down  to  Meeting  with  a  constancy  only 
equalled  by  their  former  negligence,  in  which  they  were 
quite  of  a  sort  with  ourselves. 

At  the  time  they  were  upon  rebuilding  the  Jail,  Mr. 
Evelyn  proposed  to  the  Commissioners  if  they  would 
consent  to  an  establishment  on  an  enlarged  scale,  with 
rooms  more  commodious,  windows  more  numerous,  and 
better  conveniences  for  warmth  in  winter,  he  would  bear 
the  additional  cost.  Judge  Morgridge,  Esq.  Bowker  and 


226  MARGARET. 

others,  thought  it  would  be  an  excellent  plan  ;  and  it  was 
consented  to.  The  building  stands  a  little  back  from  the 
old  site.  Each  room  Mr.  Evelyn  furnished  with  a  good 
bed,  books,  lights,  looking-glass,  washstand  and  flower  vase. 
The  windows  have  green  blinds,  which  by  a  simple  con 
trivance  the  prisoners  can  open  and  shut  at  their  pleasure. 
The  horrors  and  discomforts  of  the  old  Jail  1  have  myself 
too  sensibly  realized.  A  new  keeper  has  been  appointed 
in  place  of  Mr.  Shocks.  At  the  last  Town  Meeting  the 
Selectmen  were  instructed  to  look  after  the  moral  condition 
of  the  prisoners.  What  with  the  site  of  the  old  Meeting 
house  smoothed  and  grassed,  the  burnt  woods  improved  by 
Mrs.  Wiswall's  house  and  grounds,  a  new  School-house, 
new  Court-house,  Tavern  and  Jail,  the  Green  has  reas- 
sumed  some  of  its  former  beauty. 

Christ  Church  have  made  choice  of  three  Deacons, 
Esquire  Bowker,  Joseph  Winston  and  Comfort  Pottle. 
Deacon  Ramsdill  was  getting  old,  and  Judge  Morgridge  and 
Esquire  Beach,  who  have  served  in  that  office,  thought 
they  had  better  choose  some  young  men. 

*         ******* 

You  would  sometimes  have  tempted  me  to  live  in  your 
City.  But,  dear  Anna,  do  you  not  come  under  the  j>  r  s- 
diction  of  Master  Elliman's  Puppetdom  ?  Are  you  not, 
measurably,  simulacra  hominum  feminarumque  ?  "Are  you 
foot-free,  tongue-free,  soul-free  ?  The  personation  of  the 
Theatre  seemed  to  me  to  be  carried  through  the  City ;  all 
were  acting,  not  themselves,  but  their  parts.  Perhaps  I 
judge  wrongfully.  You,  I  know,  are  natural  and  real. 
But  what  will  you  say  of  Mr.  Squarely,  Mrs.  Modim,  the 
Misses  Euphony,  and  others  whom  I  saw  at  your  house  ? 
I  would  not  do  them  injustice,  and  I  know  I  am  incompe 
tent  to  give  an  opinion,  but  how  could  I  live  among  such 


PRISON   RENOVATED.  227 

people  ?  I  remember  once  looking  at  the  sea  near  the 
wharves,  in  January.  The  water  and  the  cold  were  in 
deadly  combat.  The  waves  winced,  bellowed  and  agonized. 
But  the  cold  kept  steadily  at  work,  as  a  spider,  and  with 
threads  of  ice,  the  Borean  monster  glued  and  entangled 
the  whole  surface,  and  soon  it  lay  a  sullen,  ghastly,  adaman 
tine  heap.  Such  seemed  to  me  to  be  the  strife  between 
fashion  and  nature  ;  and  such,  alas  !  it  is,  Mr.  Evelyn 
Bays,  the  world  over.  Give  me  leave  to  yawn  when  I  am 
tired,  wonder  at  what  is  admirable,  knock  off  chestnuts  with 
a  pole,  and  wear  a  shoe  that  fits  my  foot.  I  fear  the 
Cacoethes  Feminarum  is  a  deeper  disease  than  Obed's 
elder  blows  will  cure,  aud  that  you  will  have  to  take  a 
good  many  boxes  of  his  nostrum  before  you  are  well  quit 
of  plague  in  the  vitals.  "  The  whole  world  belike,"  says 
the  Father  from  whom  I  learn  all  my  wisdom,  "  should  be 
new-moulded,  and  turned  inside  out,  as  we  do  hay-cocks, 
top  to  bottom,  bottom  to  top."  For  the  present  I  am  con 
tented  to  keep  away,  not  from  you,  Anna,  but  from  what  is 
about  you  ;  and  if  you  push  upon  me,  I  shall  run  as  far  as 
there  is  land-room  on  the  Continent ;  and  if  worse  comes  to 
worst,  I  shall  make  my  expiration  in  the  words  of  one  of 
old:— 

"  Discedam,  explebo  numerum,  reddarque  tenebris." 
Have  we  not  here  what  his  grace  the  Duke  of  Devon 
shire  might  envy  ?  pleasure-grounds,  rich  meadows,  the 
embellishment  of  a  full-grown  plantation,  beautiful  lawns, 
many  a  paddock.  We  are  in  the  midst  of  a  royal  hunting- 
ground,  packs  of  hounds  are  in  the  neighborhood  ;  we  have 
plenty  of  game,  and  an  unlimited  right  of  common,  in 
which,  in  their  season,  are  excellent  wild  turkey  and  gray 
squirrel  shooting ;  admirable  fox-chases  ;  a  full  command 
of  the  view,  up  and  down ;  a  capital  kitchen  garden ;  our 


228  MARGARET. 

estate  is  well  watered  ;  gravel  walks  intersect  our  grounds, 
and  lead  in  all  directions.      We  see  live  Hippiades  every 
day  ;  we  have  a  perpetual  advowson  to  the  living  of  Mons 
Christi,  and  are  subject  to  no  ground  rent.     For  rustic 
ruins,  I  can  show  you  an  abundance  of  reverend  stumps, 
garnished  with  grape  vines,  and  studded  with  fungus.      In 
Italy  are  palaces  ventilated  by  windmills  ;  we  resort  to  no 
contrivances  of  that  sort.      Guianerius,  out  of  my  author, 
recommends  the  air  to  be  moistened  with  sweet  herb  water, 
and  the  floor  sprinkled  with  rose-vinegar.     We  take  the 
air  as  it  comes,  wet  or  dry,  hot  or  cold,  and  find  that  blow 
ing  across  Mons  Christi  to  be  always  exhilarating  and  salu 
brious.     In  Summer  it  is  charged  with  the  freshness  of  the 
earth,  the  aroma  of  woods,  the  music  of  birds.     In  Winter 
it  glitters  with  health  and  life. — Then  we  all  work,  not  take 
exercise,  but  work.      "The   Turks,"  so  says  Democritus, 
Junior,  "  enjoin  all  men,  of  whatsoever  degree,  to  be  of 
some  trade  or  other ;  the   Grand   Seignior  himself  is  not 
excused.      Mahomet,  he  that  conquered   Greece,  at  that 
very  time  when  he  heard  ambassadors  of  other  princes,  did 
carve  spoons."     There  is  some  difference,  peradventure, 
between  Turks  and  Christians  !     tc  Through  idleness,"  con 
tinues  my  authority,  "  it  is  come  to  pass,  that  in  city  and 
country,  so  many  grievances  of  body  and  mind,  and  this 
ferall  disease  of  melancholy  so  frequently  rageth,  and  now 
domineers   almost   all    over   Europe,   amongst   our    great 
ones."      The    ancient   Germans   plunged   idlers   into   the 
thickest  marshes,  leaving  them  to  perish  by  a  death  that 
resembled  their  own  dispositions.      Without  executioners 
to  expedite  the  matter,  all  of  that  class  do  so  perish  now- 
a-days,  nilly  willy.     Friction  is  recommended.     Think  of 
our  farmers,  stimulating  their  skins  with  flesh-brushes  to 
keep  up  a  circulation  !    Nay,  verily,  we  must  work.    Fowls 


ERECTION    OF    THE    CROSS.  229 

do  not  appear  ready  spitted,  Deacon  Ramsdill  says,  and  we 
must  work  for  them  too.  The  Lacedemonians  had  such  an 
idea  of  liberty,  they  could  not  reconcile  it  with  any 
manual  labor.  One  of  them,  returning  from  Athens,  said, 
"  I  come  from  a  City  where  nothing  is  dishonorable." 
Work  shall  be  no  disgrace  at  Mons  Christi. 

We  have  our  sports  too,  hawking,  fowling,  fishing,  riding, 
berrying.  "To  walk  amongst  orchards,  gardens,  mounts, 
thickets,  lawns  and  such  like  pleasant  places,  like  that  Antio- 
chan  Daphne,  brooks,  pools,  ponds,  betwixt  wood  and  water, 
by  a  fair  river  side,  ubi  varias  avium  cantationes,  florum  col- 
ores,  pratorum  frutices,  to  disport  in  some  pleasant  plain,  run 
up  a  steep  hill  sometimes,  sit  in  a  shady  seat,"  must  needs 
be,  as  my  benevolent  author  observes,  "  a  delectable  rec 
reation."  This  is  ours.  Then  there  are  our  in  door  diver 
sions,  music,  dancing,  chess  and  various  games.  In  winter, 
we  sleigh-ride,  coast,  skate,  snowball.  No,  Anna,  let  me 
stay  here  while  I  may. 


MARGARET    TO    ANNA. 

The  end  of  my  being  is  accomplished  !  The  prophecy 
of  my  life  is  fulfilled  !  My  dreams  have  gone  out  in  reali 
ties  !  THE  CROSS  is  ERECTED  ON  MONS  CHRISTI  ! 
Yesterday,  the  Anniversary  of  our  National  Independence, 
was  the  event  consummated.  The  sacred  emblem  was  made 
by  Mr.  Palmer,  from  a  superb  block,  of  the  purest  marble, 
out  of  his  quarry,  and  is  twenty  feet  high.  We  met  near 
the  Brook  Kedron,  on  the  Via  Salutaris.  There  were  all  the 
members  of  Christ  Church,  the  Masonic  Corps,  and  a  mul 
titude  of  others.  I  was  to  lead  the  procession,  supported 
by  Mr.  Evelyn  ;  they  had  me  seated  on  a  milk-white 

YOL.  n.  *  20 


230  MARGARET. 

horse,  dressed  in  white,  with  a  wreath  of  twin  flower  vines 
on  my  head.  Then  followed  the  Cross,  borne  on  the  shoul 
ders  of  twenty -four  young  men  ;  next  came  the  Bishop  and 
wife,  the  Deacons  and  their  wives,  Christ  Church  members, 
two-and-two,  man  and  woman  ;  these  were  succeeded  by 
the  Masons,  and  the  line  was  closed  by  the  people  at  large. 
On  the  Head  was  a  band  of  Christ  Church  musicians,  play 
ing  the  Triumphs  of  Jesus,  which  we  got  from  Germany. 
We  came  over  the  Brook  Kedron,  traversed  what  we  have 
made  the  broad  and  ornamental  Via  Salutaris,  and  entered 
the  Avenue  of  the  Beautiful.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  I  dis 
mounted.  By  a  winding  gravel- walk  I  went  up — with  a 
trembling,  joyous  step  I  went — followed  by  the  Cross- 
bearers.  Reaching  the  summit,  I  wound  the  arms  and 
head  of  the  Cross  about  with  evergreens;  the  young  men 
raised  it  in  its  place,  a  solid  granite  plinth.  Returning,  we 
assembled  under  the  Butternut,  in  the  Avenue  of  the 
Beautiful,  where  Edward  made  a  discourse  to  the  people ; 
some  idea  of  which  I  would  like  to  convey  to  you. 

He  had  for  his  text,  "  God  forbid  that  I  should  glory, 
save  in  the  Cross  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  The  Cross, 
he  said,  stood  to  us  in  two  aspects  ;  first,  the  end  of  Christ's 
life,  and  second,  the  burden  of  his  life.  Of  the  first,  he  said 
it  was  the  termination  of  his  career,  the  finale  of  a  distin 
guished  course  of  mercy  and  love  ;  hence,  as  the  finishing 
stroke  of  his  life,  he  said  it  represented  his  whole  life.  As 
the  stars  and  stripes  stand  for  our  country,  our  government, 
our  liberties,  our  national  all,  so  he  said  the  Cross  stood 
for  Christ's  all.  He  said  a  Christian  would  glory  in  the 
Cross  of  Christ,  as  a  citizen  glories  in  the  flag  of  his  coun 
try.  But  more  than  this,  he  said  the  Cross  of  Christ  had 
a  deeper  significance  than  was  implied  in  merely  his  de 
cease  on  Calvary.  He  said  it  referred  to  what  transpired 


THE    GOSPEL    CROSS.  23l 

before  his  death,  to  events  of  his  personal  history  and  ex 
perience,  in  a  word,  to  the  burden  of  his  life.  He  said 
that  Christ  bearing  hh  own  Cross,  his  telling  his  disciples 
to  take  up  their  cross  and  follow  him,  Paul's  expression, 
"  I  am  crucified  with  Christ,"  the  declaration  that  "  he 
died  unto  sin  once,"  all  denoted  that  he  underwent  a  cruci 
fixion  in  his  lifetime,  a  crucifixion  to  the  world,  to  sin  and 
all  evil ;  that  his  resistance  to  the  diabolical  temptation,  his 
strong  crying  and  tears,  his  being  touched  with  the  feeling 
of  our  infirmities,  his  agony  and  bloody  sweat,  were  such  a 
crucifixion  ;  that  his  watchings,  his  labors,  his  deprivations, 
his  rebuffs,  the  intrigues  of  his  enemies,  the  desertion  of 
his  friends,  were  a  cross  ;  that  meeting  evil  with  good,  re 
pulse  with  kindness,  insults  with  forbearance,  his  blessing 
those  who  hated  him,  his  grandeur  in  the  midst  of  what 
was  low,  his  effulgence  in  the  midst  of  what  was  dark,  his 
singleness  and  sincerity  in  a  period  of  calculating  ex 
pediency,  his  advancement,  that,  overleaping  his  own,  syn 
chronized  with  all  ages,  and  squared  with  an  unlimited 
future,  his  incarnation  of  God  among  sin-possessed  men, 
his  attempts  at  the  transfusion  of  himself  into  the  race,  and 
such  things  were  all  a  cross. 

He  said  we  bore  the  cross  when  we  reversed  the  prac 
tices  of  a  fallen  world  and  adopted  those  of  the  highest 
humanity,  when  we  shone  as  lights  in  the  world,  when  we 
were  blameless  and  harmless  in  the  midst  of  a  crooked  and 
perverse  nation,  when  we  forbore  one  another  in  love,  were 
ready  to  be  persecuted  for  righteousness'  sake,  obeyed  God 
rather  than  man,  put  off  the  old  man  with  his  deeds  and 
put  on  the  new  man  ;  and  returned  blessing  for  cursing  and 
good  for  evil ;  and  so  whatever  obstacle  we  overcame  or 
impediment  encountered  in  our  progress  towards  perfection, 
or  in  the  extension  of  the  kingdom  of  God  in  the  earth,  he 


232  MARGARET. 

said  was  a  cross.  He  said  glorying  in  the  cross  of  Christ 
would  be  the  selectest  ambition  of  every  Christian.  We  have 
adopted  the  Cross,  observed  he,  for  our  emblem,  because  it  is 
so  good  an  exponent  of  Christ,  and  of  our  character,  pur 
poses  and  principles  as  Christians.  In  allusion  to  the  green 
flowering  aspect  of  the  Cross,  he  declared  it  betokened 
the  Final  Triumph,  the  Conquest  over  Sin,  the  destruction 
of  the  Evil  by  the  Good ;  and  also  the  bloom  and  lustre  of 
Virtue.  While  he  was  speaking,  a  milk-white  Dove  from 
our  cot  flew  and  alighted  on  the  top  of  the  Cross.  Hardly 
could  we  contain  ourselves;  a  most  delicious  tremor  ran 
through  me.  The  Dove,  said  he,  is  the  symbol  of  the  sweet 
love  and  pure  effluence  of  God ! — I  cannot  tell  you  all  he 
said ;  I  repeat  his  principal  topics.  That  certain  unction  of 
his,  that  holy  medium  in  which  his  mind  moves ;  that  rosy 
sunlight  of  love  that  tinges  the  peaks  of  his  thoughts,  that 
creative  effect  of  pure  goodness  wherein  lies  his  forte — all 
this  you  will  understand  better  than  it  can  be  told. 

After  the  address,  we  went  into  the  woods  to  Diana's 
Walk  and  had  a  collation,  when  the  Lord's  Supper  was 
administered  to  the  solemn  multitude.  Returning,  Mr. 
Evelyn  embraced  me  with  tears — he  does  not  often  weep. 
Christ  has  also  embraced  me  with  tears,  and  I  too  must  weep. 
The  heart  of  the  Beautiful  One  is  touched,  and  what  can  I 
do  ?  I  dreamed  of  him  the  other  night,  lying  prostrate 
under  the  Butternut.  His  Cross,  too,  had  fallen,  and  the 
flowers  were  withered.  "  I  am  a  weary,"  said  he,  "  I  have 
no  place  to  lay  my  head.  I  am  a  stranger  in  the  world,  and 
no  one  takes  me  in  ;  I  am  sick,  and  no  one  visits  me.  My 
heart  aches,  Margaret.  My  locks  are  wet  with  the  dews  of 
the  night.  I  was  bruised  for  their  iniquities,  but  they  are 
iniquitous  still.  From  Calvary  I  have  wandered  over  the 
earth.  From  age  to  age  I  have  been  an  outcast.  My  agony 


THE    GOSPEL    CROSS.  233 

in  the  garden  was  too  true,  too  real ;  I  was  overshadowed 
by  my  destiny.  I  could  not  bear  the  insupportable  load. — 
I  do  not  see  the  travail  of  my  soul.  I  have  come  hither 
to  die,  Margaret."  He  leaned  upon  my  arm ;  he  looked  as 
he  does  in  Moralez's  Ecce  Homo,  stricken  with  a  divine 
grief  and  wasting  under  an  inexpressible  disappointment. 
I  brought  him  water  from  the  spring  Temperance,  and  his 
spirit  came  again  ;  his  look  changed  into  the  Transfiguration 
of  Raphael.  I  sprinkled  water  on  the  cross-leaves,  and 
they  revived.  Our  marble  group,  Faith,  Hope,  Love  and 
Beauty,  appeared  from  under  the  trees,  living,  and  minis 
tered  unto  him.  He  came  into  our  house,  I  dreamed,  with 
the  Sisters,  gave  a  pleased  glance  at  the  rooms ;  said,  "  I 
dwell  with  them  that  dwell  with  me,"  and  vanished. 

Explain  to  me,  Anna,  what  do  these  things  mean  ?  Have 
Christians  treated  Christ  so  badly  ?  You  recollect  the  story 
circulated  when  I  was  in  Boston,  that  the  French  had  torn 
Raphael's  Tapestries  from  the  Vatican,  and  sold  them ;  and 
some  one  purchasing  that  which  bore  an  image  of  Christ, 
burnt  it  to  ashes,  for  the  gold  and  silver  he  hoped  to  get 
from  it !  Does  Christ  haunt  the  world  like  Fionnulla,  the 
daughter  of  Lir,  sighing  for  the  first  sound  of  the  mass-bell 
that  was  to  be  the  signal  for  her  release  ?  Was  his  light 
hidden  under  ground  at  the  time  of  his  death,  and  does  it 
there  burn  eternally,  like  the  lamp  in  the  Tomb  of  Pallas? 
Tell  me,  what  is  the  significance  of  this  distress  ?  Whither 
has  fled  the  Redemption  of  Man  ? — How  far  are  we  called 
upon  to  submit  to  an  irretrievable  order  of  events?  Was 
Christ  done,  eighteen  hundred  years  now  last  past?  Were 
Calvary  and  Tyburn  Hill  alike  as  two  peas  ?  Are  the  Star 
Chamber  and  Faneuil  Hall  the  same  ?  Is  it  all  one  whether 
I  pick  strawberries  on  Mons  Christi,  or  dance  a  rigadoon 
in  a  raree  show  ?  Whether  I  am  a  geode  or  a  Milliner's 
20* 


234  MARGARET. 

baby  ?  Eidepol !  God  is  one,  but  man  is  many,  and  the  soul 
is  none. 

The  green-wreathed  Cross  towers  afar.  It  can  be  seen 
from  the  Green,  and  beyond  the  River ;  at  No.  4,  Breakneck, 
Snakehill,  Five-mile-lot;  and  I  presume  in  half  a  dozen 
towns.  From  my  window  I  see  it  piercing  the  clouds,  which 
are  its  perpetual  aureola.  The  stars  shall  crown  it ;  the  sun 
shall  stoop  to  do  it  reverence.  I  mean  to  train  over  it  a 
Boursalt  rose,  and  in  winter  drape  it  with  running  club- 
moss. 

******** 

This  Cross  has  travailed  in  my  soul,  Anna ;  I  could  not 
rest  till  it  had  gone  forth  in  substance.  We  have  trimmed 
the  path  up  the  Head  with  rose-bushes,  amaranths, 
angelicas,  thyme,  bitter-sweet  nightshade,  and  here  and 
there  a  thorn.  Can  you  realize  how  much  Christ  has  been 
to  me  ?  How  much  of  beauty,  goodness,  love,  peace,  hope, 
light,  strength,  I  owe  him  !  I  do  find  his  yoke  easy  and  his 
burden  light.  Even  when  I  knew  him  not,  he  blessed  me. 
I  could  not  be  more  happy  if  I  had  my  birth  in  his  soul. 
The  Eder  Duck  of  Heaven,  he  lines  the  nest  of  his  off 
spring  with  down  plucked  from  his  own  breast.  He 
offered  himself  for  our  sins ;  he  suffered  for  us.  The 
voluntary  Prometheus,  he  bound  himself  to  the  Caucasian 
rock  of  humanity,  his  heart  was  preyed  upon  by  all  the 
evils  of  the  race.  He  sympathizes  with  us.  Why  is  the 
world  so  insensible  to  him  ?  Venus,  bewailing  the  death 
of  Adonis,  changed  his  blood  into  the  wind-flower.  Christ, 
bewailing  the  death  of  man,  would  have  changed  his  blood 
into  beautiful  soul-flowers.  But — Venus  running  to  the 
aid  of  her  boy,  pricked  her  foot  with  a  thorn,  and  that 
blood  changed  the  white  rose  into  the  red.  Christ  pricked 
his  feet  with  thorns,  the  roses  of  the  woods  are  red,  humanity 
still  welters  in  its  blood. 


THE    NEW   TESTAMENT    UNVEILED.  235 

To  Mr.  Evelyn  and  Edward  how  much  I  owe  !  They 
have  removed  the  dross,  the  dogmatic  obscurity  and  wanton 
frivolity,  that  attached  to  the  New  Testament ;  and  made 
it  a  luminous,  divine  book  to  me.  When  Mr.  Evelyn  was 
in  England,  this  was  told  him.  Lord  Northwick  had  just 
brought  from  Italy  a  picture  of  St.  Gregory,  by  Annibal 
Caracci.  For  some  cause  connected  with  the  troubles  of 
the  times,  in  order  to  get  possession  of  the  picture,  a  poor 
dauber  had  been  hired  to  paint  over  it  in  body-color  an 
imitation  of  some  inferior  artist.  When  it  was  opened,  his 
Lordship's  friends,  who  had  been  looking  for  something 
admirable,  stared  in  mortified  astonishment.  "  It  has  got 
soiled,  I  see,"  said  his  Lordship,  "  give  me  a  sponge." 
Whereupon  he  began  to  wash  the  piece,  nor  had  he  long 
done  so,  when  out  peeped  the  head  of  St.  Gregory ;  soon 
the  attendant  Angels  were  seen,  and  in  a  short  time  the 
whole  of  that  magnificent  picture  became  visible.  So  the 
Bible  has  been  daubed  over  to  my  eyes.  I  have  seen  in  it 
not  the  work  of  God,  but  the  production  of  some  poor 
artist.  I  have  turned  from  it  as  a  miserable  travesty.  The 
sponge  has  been  applied;  the  false  colors  removed,  and  the 
original  is  inexpressibly  beautiful.  The  Gospels  are  the 
Word  of  Christ,  as  he  was  the  Word  of  God.  Before  the 
Gospels,  Christ  was.  He  shines  through  them.  They 
stand  in  him,  like  the  Apocalyptic  Angel  in  the  Sun.'  Mr. 
Evelyn  reads  them  to  us  from  the  Greek,  whereby,  he  says, 
he  has  a  better  sense  of  them  himself  and  can  impart  a 
better  sense. 

Come,  Anna,  come  to  Mons  Christi.  Come  and  see  our 
happiness,  come  and  feel  it.  I  am  running  over.  I  wish 
there  was  a  silver  pipe  reaching  from  here  to  you,  such  as  I 
once  saw  let  down  from  the  blue  sky,  that  you  might  draw 
off  and  be  surcharged  like  me.  I  wish  from  the  great 


236  MARGARET. 

spring-head  of  Jesus  an  aqueduct  could  be  laid  that  should 
fill  your  beautiful  Common  with  fountains  !  And,  0,  I 
wish  all  hearts  might  become  gardens  of  fountains,  like 
what  Mr.  Evelyn  saw  in  the  Tuileries  at  Paris.  I  never 
feared  death.  I  was  never  troubled  about  the  hereafter. 
I  have  an  immortality  each  moment  of  my  life.  I  am 
inundated  with  ages  of  bliss.  I  could  die  to-morrow,  and 
feel  that  I  had  lived  forever.  I  could  live  forever,  and 
never  be  sensible  of  an  addition  to  what  I  now  have.  Rose 
is  here,  playing  one  of  Beethoven's  Waltzes ;  it  is  a  jet  of 
music  spriting  into  my  ecstasy.  My  life  is  hid  with  Christ 
in  God.  The  One  circumflows  and  in-heavens  us.  The 
Infinite  Father  bears  us  in  his  bosom,  shepherd  and  flock. 
I  feel  that  all  good,  beautiful  souls  live  forever.  Rose  says 
she  begins  to  feel  so  too.  She  brought  me  a  bunch  of 
flowers  from  the  Via  Dolorosa  !  The  birds  are  jubilating 
in  the  woods.  I  see  Pa  and  Mr.  Evelyn  at  work  in  the 
garden.  Come  and  spend  the  summer  with  us.  I  am  but 
a  child.  I  feel  only  a  child's  feelings.  I  lie  on  the  grass 
and  frisk,  a  mere  baby  in  God's  Universe.  Come,  and 
you  shall  instruct  me.  Let  me  be  Jesus's  child  ;  I  ask  no 
more. 

For  the  nonce,  I  sign  myself. 

MARGARET  CHRISTI. 

MARGABET   TO  ANNA. 

We  have  a  new  Cemetery.  It  lies  back  of  Grove  Street, 
south  of  Deacon  Hadlock's  Pasture ;  is  intersected  by  the 
Brook  Kedron,  and  covers  part  of  the  wooded  slope  on  the 
descent  of  Mons  Christi.  It  possesses  a  variety  of  surface 
and  of  trees,  and  the  ornaments  of  walks  and  shrubbery 
On  either  side  of  the  Brook  is  a  willow-shaded  gravel  path. 


A   NEW    CEMETERY.  237 

When  Mr.  Evelyn  was  in  Europe  lie  visited  the  Cemeteries 
of  Naples,  Pisa,  and  Pere  la  Chaise  at  Paris,  and  here  he 
would  reproduce  the  effect.  We  cannot  imitate  all  archi 
tectural  and  princely  forms,  but  we  can  do  that  which 
pleases  ourselves.  Several  of  the  citizens  have  already 
put  up  tasteful  monuments.  Rufus  Palmer  helps  us  in  this, 
as  in  other  things,  and  he  has  two  young  men  studying  and 
practising  with  him  ;  one  of  whom,  Socrates  Hadlock, 
gives  excellent  artistical  promise.  Mr.  Girardeau  has  a  lot, 
and  to  it  have  been  brought  the  remains  of  his  wife,  my 
own  father  and  mother,  his  sister  Marie,  and  Raxman. 
Rose  also  intends  to  remove  here  her  father  and  mother, 
and  sister.  The  kind  Arab  wish,  "  May  you  die  among 
your  kindred,"  we  shall  in  some  sense  realize.  We  have 
been  concerned  about  Chilion,  his  dying  request  we  sup 
posed  it  impossible  ever  to  execute,  and  had  kept  it  graven 
on  our  own  memories.  At  last,  however,  we  ventured  to 
speak  of  the  matter  to  the  people,  and  at  a  full  town  meet 
ing  it  was  asked  if  they  would  consent  to  the  carrying  out 
of  Chilion's  wishes.  All  who  spoke  answered  affirmatively, 
and  if  there  were  any  dissenters  they  kept  silence.  The 
plain  marble  shaft  Mr.  Palmer  first  made  now  stands  over 
his  new  grave ;  on  it  is  his  name,  CHILION,  and  underneath 
are  these  words,  "  Here  lies  one  who  tried  to  love  his 
fellow-men," — words  I  know  that  were  near  his  heart,  and 
are  now  gone  forth  to  the  world.  Mr.  Smith,  when  the 
transfer  of  graves  was  made,  allowed  that  Solomon's 
monument,  on  which  has  so  long  stood  the  dreadful  word 
"murdered,"  should  be  changed  for  another.  The  old 
burial-ground  remains ;  the  ancient  headstones,  those 
which  are  identified,  as  the  spot  itself  is,  with  the  early  his 
tory  of  Livingston,  keep  their  primitive  places.  The  Cem 
etery  seems  to  us  mournful  and  attractive ;  an  iron  fence 


238  MARGARET. 

surrounds  it,  but  its  gates  are  always  unlocked.  With 
dove-like,  Pleiadian  melody,  the  Brook  Kedron  flows 
through  it.  Mr  Evelyn  has  striven  to  diffuse  a  taste  that 
prevails  in  Europe,  and  already  are  many  of  the  mounds 
and  lots  blooming  with  flowers.  People  walk  there  a 
great  deal,  and  on  the  Sabbath  it  is  thronged.  It  shears 
death  of  its  terrors,  spiritualizes  life,  and  hallows  affection. 
There  is  a  Fountain  reaching  from  Mons  Chisti  to  our 
Common !  It  is  fed  by  the  Brook  Kedron,  and  rises  in 
the  centre  of  the  Green.  It  springs  by  graceful  impulses, 
and  breaks  into  beautiful  attenuations.  The  Green  is 
encircled  by  great  elms,  and  here  is  a  liquid  elm  in  the 
midst  of  them.  Mr.  Stillwater  has  changed  his  Tavern  to 

the  Cross  and  Crown. 
•' ('      *         *         *         *         *         #         #         # 

Col.  Welch,  who  left  here  during  the  War,  has  returned. 
He  addressed  a  letter  to  Judge  Morgridge,  the  brother  of 
Mrs.  Welch,  intimating  a  wish  to  come  back  and  end  his 
days  among  his  old  town's  people.  At  a  meeting  of  the 
citizens,  the  subject  was  considered,  and  they  declared 
unanimously  for  his  request,  and  voted  moreover  to  reim 
burse  his  expenses  hither,  repair  his  house  and  renovate 
his  grounds.  Col.  Welch's,  the  Poorhouse,  the  Pockhouse, 
or  whatever  it  be,  is  ineffaceably  associated  with  my  first 
knowledge  of  Mr.  Evelyn,  and  with  a  morbific  career  of  no 
uncertain  character.  Mr.  Evelyn  has  said  he  did  not  know 
as  he  should  have  ever  married  me,  if  he  had  not  first 
given  me  the  Small  Pox.  (?)  Col.  WelchVis  a  command 
ing  situation,  and  one  of  the  finest  on  the  Green.  His 
family  of  sons  and  daughters,  becomes  a  great  acquisition 
to  our  circle  of  friends. 

You  are  acquisitive  of  news,  Anna,  and  I  must  tell  you, 
Caesar  Morgridge  and  Phillis  Welch,  Tony  Washington  and 


PEACE    AND    WAR.  239 

Mom  Dill,  are  married  ;  and  Master  Elliman  is  betrothed 
to  Miss  Amy !  How  this  last  was  brought  about  I  can 
hardly  say  ;  only  it  was  natural  that  a  matter  of  thirty 
years'  standing  should  come  to  a  head  at  last.  He  told  me, 
laughing,  that  he  was  now  heir  apparent  to  the  tottering 
throne  of  Puppetdom,  in  Livingston.  He  has  long  occu 
pied  the  sacerdotal  office  of  Parish-clerk,  he  says,  and  now 
aspires  to  higher  degrees  in  Anagogics.  But,  soberly,  I 
think  my  good,  fast,  tenderhearted,  queer  old  friend  has 
changed  somewhat — not  in  his  dress,  far  he  wears  the  same 
nankeen  breeches,  shovel  hat,  fringed  vest,  tye-wig,  as  of 
yore — but  in  his  feelings,  and  interior  self.  He  consents 
to  reality  and  nature  more  ;  he  exhibits  a  cordial  interest 
in  life,  men  and  manners.  I  am  under  irredeemable  obli 
gations  to  him.  He  instructed  me  largely  in  the/orm,  but 
kept  me  away  from  the  heart  of  things,  the  common  heart 
I  mean  ;  and  left  me  wholly  to  find  a  heart  for  myself,  or 
make  such  a  one  as  I  could.  This,  Mr.  Evelyn  says,  was 
a  great  service. 

*         *  .      #         *         *         *         #         # 

Training-days  have  provoked  a  good  deal  of  talk.  Their 
innumerable  evils  we  all  felt.  Pa,  himself,  was  brought 
home  drunk  from  a  recent  muster-field!  The  question 
took  a  serious  form  among  the  people.  Parson  Welles, 
sensible  q£  the  growing  scepticism,  preached  to  his,  now  so 
small,  congregation,  in  behalf  of  the  practice.  This  had 
the  effect  to  deepen  inquiry  in  the  general  mind.  Christ 
Church  members  went  one  day  in  solemn,  mournful  pro 
cession,  men,  women  and  children,  to  their  Oracle,  the 
Gospels — for  such  they  emphatically  are  ; — they  went  with 
as  much  perturbation  of  curiosity  and  weight  of  concern  as 
ever  Athenians  did  to  the  Delphian  Tripod.  "  Christ  for 
bids  us  to  kill  cur  enemies,"  responded  the  Bishop,  at 
whose  house  they  met. 


24'0  MARGARET. 

The  next  training-day,  Capt.  Tuck,  with  a  speech  quite  in 
his  vein,  threw  up  his  commission.     The  subaltern  officers 
followed  the  example  of  their  captain,  the  soldiers  went  into 
no  balloting,  and  the  Livingston  Company  was  not.     Capt. 
Hoag  said  also  that  his  mind  had  changed.     Deacons  Pen- 
rose  and  Hadlock,  with  some  others,  sought  to  re-organize  a 
band  ;  but  they  were  too  old  for  such  a  purpose  themselves, 
and  they  could  not  find  young  men  enough  even  to  form  an 
Irish  company.     General  Kingsland,  of   Dunwich,  ordered 
our  people  to  attach  themselves  to  the  Dunwich  Company. 
One  or  two  muster-days  passed,  and  nothing  was  done. 
At  last  the  General  sent  in  an  armed  body,  of  fifty  or  a 
hundred  men,  to  take  our  people  to  Dunwich,  without  fail. 
In  workshops,  mills,  farms,   offices,  the  citizens  continued 
their  ordinary  pursuits.     These  soldiers  dispersed  them 
selves   in  all  parts  of  the   town.     I    was   riding   in   the 
Meadows,  when  they  came  there.     Several  of  our  people 
were  at  work,  and  among  them  Judah   Weeks,  who  was 
mowing.     "  Don't  you  intend  to  go  with  us  ?  "  said  the  sol 
diers.     "  I  am  very  busy,"  replied  Judah,  "  I  could  not 
possibly  go  to-day,  neither  do  I  care  to  at  any  time."      "  I 
am  empowered  to  force  you,"  said  one  of  the  troop.    "  Very 
well,"  replied  Judah,  and  continued  his  work.     The  soldier 
seized  him  by  the  collar,  but  Judah,  who  is  very  strong, 
still  kept  his  scythe  swinging,  until  he  had  drawn  the  other 
one  or  two  rods  into  the  grass.     "  I  will  shoot  you  if  you 
don't     obey."       "That   is   it,    hey?"    answered    Judah. 
"  If  I  am  to  die,  I  wish  to  do  so  with  my  wife  and  child. 
Call  Bertha,  some  of  you,"  he  said  to  the  people  who  began 
to  flock  around.     His  wife  and  child  were  brought.     "  Now 
I  am  ready,"  said  he.     The  soldier  raised  his  musket,  and 
lowered  it.     I  know  not  that   he  had  any  intentions   of 
shooting.      The  soldiers  went  off,  and  Judah  resumed  his 


PEACE    AND    WAR.  'M'l 

labors.  We  next  encountered  them  carrying  a  young  fel 
low  who  proved  to  be  my  old  pupil,  Consider  Gisborne. 
Four  of  them  had  him  by  his  arms  and  feet.  He  kicked 
lustily,  and  got  away. 

An  affair  occurred  at  the  Mill,  of  which  there  have 
been  several  accounts.  I  will  give  you  the  version  we 
received  from  Captain  Tuck  himself.  General  Kingsland, 
in  person,  a  Captain  and  Lieutenant,  all  in  field  costume, 
went  to  the  Mill,  and  sent  in  a  message  that  they  had 
express  business  with  Capt.  Tuck.  The  Captain,  going  to 
the  door,  told  them  he  was  much  hurried,  that  all  his  stones 
were  running,  and  several  people  were  waiting  for  their 
grists ;  and  politely  asked  them  in.  However  loath,  they 
dismounted,  entered  the  building,  and  followed  the  Captain, 
who  was  actively  employed,  from  hopper  to  hopper.  The 
place  was  swarming  with  meal-dust,  which  presently  found 
lodgment  on  their  plumes,  blue  coats  and  sashes.  The 
General  became  uneasy  and  urgent,  the  Captain  replied 
that  he  was  very  busy,  and  at  the  same  time  demonstrated 
the  nature  of  his  engagement  by  emptying  a  meal-bag,  from 
which  fumed  up  any  quantity  of  the  line  white  effluvium. 
Whereupon,  in  the  words  of  Captain  Tuck,  "  the  General 
and  his  forces  made  a  precipitate  retreat."  Sprinkled 
with  flower  from  crest  to  spur,  they  mounted  their  horses, 
and  by  most  private  ways  withdrew  from  Livingston,  The 
Captain  vaunts  himself  much  on  what  he  calls  his  ruse  de 
guerre ;  and  declares  that  meal-powder  is  more  effective 
than  gunpowder. 

We  are  menaced  with  fines,  but  our  people  say  they  had 
better  pay  them  than  train.  Indeed,  a  levy  was  made, 
some  property  put  up  at  auction,  but  no  bidders  appeared. 
However,  the  whole  matter  is  to  be  carried  before  the 

VOL.  II.  21. 


242  MARGARET. 

State  Legislature,  and  we  are  looking  forward  to  their 
action  with  no  small  solicitude. 

The  world  rattles  about  us,  like  woodpeckers  in  the  for 
est.  If  any  thing  rotten  or  defective  can  be  discovered, 
well  for  us,  we  will  have  it  cut  down.  I  have  certified  my 
self  of  the  meaning  of  that  very  anagogical  word,  tl  world  ;  " 
it  signifies  any  thing  that  is  not  Livingston,  or  out  of  Christ 
Church,  or  below  Mons  Christi.  We,  means  us,  and  they, 
them.  How  very  pleasant  to  be  brought,  plump  up  against 
the  fence  of  the  not-you !  By  being  ourselves,  we  have 
developed  another  being,  quite  as  long  and  as  broad,  and 
inclined  to  pugilism  withal.  I  used  not  to  be,  and  nobody 
else  was.  Mr.  Evelyn  first  scared  me  with  this  idea  of 
"  the  world."  But  our  world  grows  larger  every  day, 
and  I  lack  not  for  company,  though  there  grows  paripassu. 
How  will  either  come  out  in  the  end  ? 

Some  of  our  people  walk  carefully  as  birds  on  ice. 
Soon,  I  trust,  they  will  find  the  earth,  or  wings  wherewithal 
to  leave  it.  How  good  a  thing  it  is,  in  all  our  doubt  and 
uncertainty,  that  we  have  an  oracle  to  which  we  can 
appeal,  1  mean  the  Gospels.  In  the  wreck  of  so  much  that 
is  excellent,  why  have  they  not  perished  also  ?  When  the 
Persians  destroyed  the  Temples  of  Greece,  they  did  not 
dare  touch  that  of  the  Isle  of  Delos,  it  was  so  sacred.  Has 
the  extreme  value  of  these  books  saved  them  from  pillage  ? 
Therein,  through  the  vices  of  men  let  me  discern  their 
virtues. 


MARGARET   TO   ANNA. 

Our  Sabbaths  are  delightful  days ;  they  always  were  to 
me,  because  I  did  not  go  to  Meeting ;  now,  because  I  do 
go.  They  were  ever  liberty,  rest,  and  recreation  to  me, 


THE    NEW    SABBATH.  243 

now  they  bring  a  higher  spiritual  enjoyment.  We  go  to 
Church,  forenoon  and  afternoon,  and  sometimes  dine  in  the 
Village  at  the  Bishop's,  or  elsewhere.  In  summer  we 
walk,  in  winter  ride.  We  all  go,  Pa,  Ma,  Hash  and  Nim- 
rod,  with  their  families,  and  whoever  is  living  with  us. 
There  is  a  mellowness  about  the  sky  and  air,  that  day, 
which  is  all  the  difference  I  perceive.  People  tell  me  what 
a  drearily  solemn  day  the  Sabbath  used  to  be.  "  It  was  a 
despit  pinched  up  sort  of  a  time,"  said  Mrs.  Whiston  to  me 
a  while  since,  "  as  if  God  was  asleep  and  we  had  to  go  tip 
toe  all  day,  and  couldn't  speak  above  our  breath  for  fear 
of  waking  him."  We  all  carry  flowers  to  Church,  not 
quite  so  extravagant  a  bunch  as  I  once  got  a  rebuke  for. 

The  death  of  Deacon  Hadlock,  and  the  infirmities  of  Par 
son  Welles,  have  quite  thinned  off  the  old  society,  and  Christ 
Church  includes  almost  the  whole  town.  Indeed,  the  old 
parson  himself,  with  such  of  his  flock  as  chose  to  accompany 
him,  was  at  our  Church  a  few  Sabbaths  since.  Zenus  Joy 
is  our  chorister,  and  Dorothy  Tapley,  who  has  fine  musical 
powers,  plays  the  organ.  One  half  of  the  hymns  are  sung 
by  the  whole  congregation  ;  this,  Deacon  Ramsdill  says,  is 
as  it  used  to  be,  and  so  the  old  folks  are  pleased,  and  the 
young  ones  too.  The  Feast  of  the  Lord's  Supper  occurs 
every  month. 

Our  Communion  days  are  so  Christ-giving,  so  abounding 
in  what  some  are  wont  to  call  soul-food,  so  contributory  to 
the  Divine  Atonement,  they  seem  almost  the  best  days. 
We  all  eat  that  bread  and  drink  that  wine  whereby  we 
mean  to  show  the  Lord's  death  until  he  come ;  that  is,  as 
the  Bishop  instructs  us,  until  Christ  perfectly  comes  in  our 
souls,  and  over  the  earth.  Many  of  the  children  are  com- 
munionists;  the  excellent  teaching  of  the  Sunday  school 
prepares  them  for  this  higher  Church  order.  At  noon,  the 


244  MARGARET. 

people  go  into  the  Cemetery  and  eat  their  dinner  on  the 
seats  near  the  Brook  Kedron.  At  night,  scores,  and  some 
times  hundreds,  come  to  Mons  Christi,  visit  the  Cross,  walk 
about  the  grounds;  sometimes  they  come  into  our  draw 
ing-room,  where  we  have  religious  conversation,  and  sing 
hymns.  How  much  there  is  in  the  religion  of  Christ  to  talk 
about,  and  I  have  become  as  sanctiloquent  as  any  of  them. 
That  word  Love,  of  which  St.  John  says  he  who  has  it 
dwells  in  God  and  God  in  him,  how  much  there  is  in  it! 
It  has  already  given  us  a  new  Heaven  and  a  new  Earth, 
and  goes  on  creating  stars,  nebulae  and  milky  ways,  with 
out  number.  It  would  astonish  you,  Anna,  to  hear  some 
whom  you  would  consider  most  jejune  and  sterile,  talk. 
The  graces  of  the  Spirit,  joy,  love,  peace,  goodness,  have 
thrown  up  tropical  islands  in  these  wastes  of  brine. 

I  shall  have  many  things  to  tell  you,  more  than  I  can 
write. — Last  Sunday,  Obed  brought  his  child  to  be  bap 
tized.  It  received  the  name  of  Bartholomew  Elliman ! 
The  Master  and  the  Widow,  I  understand,  have  made 
peace,  or  suspended  hostilities.  The  Master  promised  an 
annuity  to  the  child  if  it  should  be  called  after  him.  Frank 
ly,  Anna,  I  must  confess,  the  Widow  is  the  most  purely 
selfish  woman  I  have  ever  heard  of.  Some  would  get 
drunk,  some  were  bigots,  they  were  fanatical  or  intolerant, 
but  all  had  a  spice  of  honesty  at  the  bottom.  But  she  is  a 
hypocrite  at  the  core.  She  has  given  me  some  trouble,  and 
done  me  some  good,  perhaps  ;  for  which  all  thanks.  An 
ambitious  avarice  has  been  her  ruling  passion.  Will  you 
believe  it,  the  day  of  the  erection  of  the  Cross,  when  we 
were  having  the  sacrament  in  the  woods,  she  was  there, 
so  they  say,  her  pockets  filled  with  the  Nommernisstortum- 
bug,  and  endeavoring  to  truck  with  people.  Nimrod  never 
could  endure  her  ;  he  always  said  she  followed  church-going 


THE    NEW    SABBATH.  245 

the  same  as  blackbirds  do  the  plough,  to  pick  up  the 
worms.  The  Bishop  has  had  a  sober  talk  with  her,  as 
every  good  Christian  should  do.  And  this  admonishes  me, 
that  I,  perhaps,  am  somewhat  at  fault  in  what  I  say.  I 
have  dealt  too  roundly  with  her.  Words  do  so  cover  the 
whole  field  of  our  vision  while  the  object  shall  go  half 
naked.  He  says  she  has  some  in  corrupt  nature,  that  she  is 
not  wholly  dead  in  the  old  Adam,  sin ;  and  declares  that 
Christ  may  yet  make  her  live.  He  says  Christ  and  the 
Gospels  are  sufficient  to  destroy  any  amount,  and  any  in 
veteracy  of  evil  in  the  heart.  If  the  Leech  can  be  touched, 
we  must  all  believe  so  too. 

The  Bishop  says  the  Gospel  must  find  something  in  our 
natures  similar  to  itself  before  it  can  take  effect ;  the  roots 
feel  their  way  into  the  earth  in  search  of  nutriment,  homo 
geneous  and  corresponding,  each  root  for  itself,  that  of 
wheat  for  one  substance,  and  that  of  sorrel  for  another  ;  so 
lie  says  the  Gospel  feels  its  way  into  the  heart.  As  music 
addresses  and  develops  the  musical  sentiment,  so  evangel 
ical  love  and  truth  address  and  develop  the  sentiments  of 
love  and  truth.  In  this  way  he  acts  ;  he  gains  access  to 
the  heart,  makes  sure  that  the  floor  will  hold  him  ;  then 
commences  an  onslaught  on  the  unclean  spirits,  drives 
them  out,  with  old  Adam  at  their  head  ;  brushes  away  the 
dust  and  cobwebs  of  meanness  ;  opens  the  shutters,  and  lets 
in  the  light  of  God  and  the  clear  shining  of  the  Sun  of 
Righteousness.  Such  are  many  of  the  wonders  God  hath 
wrought  by  him  in  Livingston  !  Can  he  succeed  with  the 
Widow  ?  In  all  countries  moss  grows,  the  ice-bolster 
ed  rocks  of  the  Arctic  are  green  and  soft  with  it.  There 
the  merganser  spends  its  summer,  the  snowbird  rears  its 
young,  and  our  own  robin  sings.  Shall  we  despair,  then, 
of  these  temperate  regions  ?  When  our  troops  went  to  the 
21* 


246  MARGARET. 

attack  of  Louisburg,  Whitfield  gave  them  this  motto :  "  Nil 
desperandum,  Christo  Duce  ;  "  an  admirable  one  for  our 
own  flag. 

I  am  forgetting,  like  many  other  sinners,  the  Sabbath. 
It  is  the  Lords  day  to  us ;  in  the  most  exalted  sense,  it  is 
Christ's  own  day.  All  days  are  holy,  this  seems  to  be  the 
cream  of  the  week.  On  the  spiritual  river  where  we  would 
ever  sail,  the  Sabbath  opens  into  clearer  water,  and  broader 
bay ;  and  we  can  rest  on  our  oars  to  get  a  distincter  view 
of  the  blue  heavenly  hills  whither  we  tend.  Is  it  not  a  good 
thing,  this  hebdomadal  renovation  of  the  skin  and  clothes  ? 
You  know  the  old  saw :  "  Cleanliness  is  next  to  Godliness." 
Our  Bishop  preaches  on  cleanliness,  carnal  and  spiritual  ; 
and  if  it  be  a  true  sign,  I  think  you  would  count  us  a  very 
godly  people.  Houses,  rooms,  yards,  fences,  streets,  as  well 
as  persons,  in  all  parts  of  the  town,  look  wonderfully  clean, 
neat,  tidy  ;  No.  4  would  grace  Hyde  Park.  You  would  also 
see,  on  the  Sabbath  conspicuously,  greater  simplicity  in 
dress;  there  is  taste  and  some  ornament;  but  "gaudy  ap 
parel"  has  almost  entirely  disappeared,  "as  unbecoming 
those  who  profess  Godliness."  That  transition  in  fashion 
with  which  a  foreign  connection  so  afflicts  your  city,  is  here 
neither  frequent  nor  abrupt.  In  an  intermixture  of  styles 
from  one  season  to  another,  the  variety  is  not  sufficiently 
marked  to  prevent  our  wearing  out  the  old  without  disquiet, 
or  adopting  the  new  at  convenience. 

•         «*«»*** 

The  other  night,  at  a  party  at  our  house,  Deacon  Bow- 
ker  danced  with  Miss  Amy,  I  should  say,  Mrs.  Elliman ;  a 
thing  she  never  consented  to  before  in  her  life.  Col.  Welch 
said  he  was  falling  into  his  second  childhood,  by  renewing 
his  youth,  sooner  than  he  anticipated.  A  dance  on  cold 
water  he  pronounced  strange,  but  excellent.  Deacon 


ALL    SUSCEPTIBLE    OF    TRUTH.  247 

Ramsdill  declared  that  he  should  live  an  hundred  years. 
*'  It's  sheer  nater,"  said  he,  "  it  is  just  like  soap,  the  longer 
you  keep  it,  the  better  it  grows."  If  Chilion  could  only 
play  for  us  !  William  Beach  proves  a  first-rate  violinist, 
so  does  Abiah  Tapley. 

We  make  much  of  music,  and  it  does  well  by  us.  I  wish 
to  see  unfolded  and  imbodied  the  entire  musical  capability 
of  the  wn.  We  have  an  instrumental  company,  called 
The  '  ilion  Band.  They  play  on  the  Green,  Summer 
evenings,  and  in  the  Cemetery  ;  they  have  gone  to  Break 
neck,  Shakehill,  and  all  parts  of  the  town.  They  frequent 
ly  come  to  Mons  Christi,  play  in  our  groves,  and  on  the 
Head.  The  effect  of  this  last  is  indescribable.  It  reaches 
the  village,  and  the  inspiring  melodies,  like  morning 
light,  irradiate  over  wood,  valley  and  mountain.  Mr. 
Evelyn  has  written  some  Christian  Hymns,  very  beautiful, 
and  combining  some  lyric  fire.  These  hymns  you  will 
hear  in  many  a  house,  in  the  fields,  and  the  children  sing 
them  at  school. 

Our  schools  are  doing  well.  There  were  formerly  but 
two  in  town,  we  have  now  six.  Hancock  Welles,  grand 
son  of  the  Parson,  after  he  left  College,  was  engaged  for  a 
permanent  teacher  in  the  Grammar  School,  for  which  a 
new  and  commodious  house  was  erected  on  the  Green,  in 
place  of  the  one  that  was  burnt. 


MARGARET    TO    ANNA. 

We  have  digested  and  adopted  a  system  of  Christ 
Church  Festivals.  Mr.  Evelyn  observed  the  extent  and 
influence  of  these  things  in  the  Old  World,  and,  after  due 
sortings  and  shiftings,  we  thought  something  of  the  kind 
might  be  produced  in  the  New.  The  idea,  he  insists,  is  a 


248  MARGARET. 

good  one,  but  the  manner  in  which  the  thing  has  been 
managed  is  open  to  reprehension.      Festivals,  he   says, 
have  been  instituted  by  Kings  and  Popes,  for  Machiavel 
lian  purposes,  or  any  other  than  Christian  or  human  ;  that 
they  have  never  been  the  offspring  of  a  free  and  enlight 
ened  mind,  but  either  the  enforcements  of  arbitrary  power, 
or  the  expedients  of  priestly  art.     Christ-Church  Festivals 
have  at  least  this  merit ;  the  people  were  cognizant  of  their 
incipiency,  assisted  in  each  step  of  their  progress,  and  gave 
their  suffrages  to  the  entire  plan.     Ecclesiastical  Holidays, 
Mr.  Evelyn  says,  are  also  open  to  exception  in  their  sub 
jects.     Why  should  we  observe   the   Purification   of  the 
Virgin  Mary,  St.  Michael's  day,  or  Ash  Wednesday  ?     Or 
why,  neglecting  more  affecting  and  spiritual  events,  should 
we  make  use  of  the  Circumcision  of  Christ  ?     We  cannot, 
of  course,  with  the  English  Church,  keep  the  Gunpowder 
Plot,  and  King  Charles's  Martyrdom.     Our  Festivals  are 
twelve  in  number,  one  for  each  month  of  the  year.     Three 
of  them  are  such  as  have  already  become  national,  or  at 
least  New  England,  the   Spring  Fast,  Independence  and 
the  Autumnal  Thanksgsving ;  three  more  are  founded  on 
the  Beatitudes,  and  are  named  as  follows  :  the  Festival  of 
the  Poor  in   Spirit,  of     the    Peacemakers,   and   of   the 
Pure    in  Heart.     There   is   the    Festival   of  Charity,   or 
Christian  Love,  from   1  Cor.  xiii.      Then  from  the  life  of 
Christ  are  Christmas,  drawn  from  his  birth,  etc ;     Child- 
mas,  which  refers  to  his  holy  Boyhood  and  Youth  ;  the 
Festival  of  the  Crucifixion,  which  comprises  his  strong  cry 
ing  and  tears  in  the  flesh,  his  temptation,  his  bearing  his 
Cross,  his  agony  in  the  garden,  and  his  death ;   that  of  the 
Resurrection,  which  includes  his  transfiguration,  his  spirit 
ual  anastasis,  his  being  the  Life  of  the  soul,  and  his  rising 
from  the  dead.     Then  we  have  the  Festival  of  Universal 


CHRIST-CHURCH   FESTIVALS.  249 

Brotherhood,  taken  from  Christ's  interview  with  the 
Samaritan  woman,  and  the  Declaration  of  Paul,  that  in 
Christ  all  are  one.  We  have  also  twelve  other  Festivals, 
in  the  monthly  recurrence  of  the  holy  Communion.  Our 
Bishop  has  also  prepared  a  system  of  Sabbaths,  which  he 
pursues  with  tolerable  regularity.  He  has  given  us,  Bap 
tismal  Sunday,  founded  on  Christ's  Baptism  ;  Children's 
Sunday, — his  blessing  the  little  children  ;  Unity  Sunday  ; 
Atonement  Sunday — "  that  they  may  be  one  in  us  ;  "  Re 
generation  Sunday — "  except  a  man  be  born  again  ; "  Re 
pentance  Sunday,  etc.,  etc. 

Christmas,  if  you  please,  leads  the  signs  in  our  Evan 
gelical  Circle,  is  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  year;  this 
falls  in  September ;  the  Pure  in  Heart,  in  October ; 
Thanksgiving,  in  November;  the  Festival  of  the  Universal 
Brotherhood,  which  also  includes  All  Saints,  is  given  to 
December.  In  January  is  the  Peacemakers,  when  we 
decorate  the  Church  with  evergreens,  have  the  Lion  and 
Lamb  symbolized,  and  make  our  endeavors  for  private  and 
universal  Peace.  We  seek  forgiveness  and  proffer  restitu 
tion.  To  February,  the  Poor  in  Spirit  is  assigned ;  the 
Crucifixion  to  March  ;  and  in  April  is  Fast.  May  gives  us 
Childmas,  which  is  peculiarly  for  the  children  ;  June,  the 
Festival  of  Love;  July,  Independence  social,  political 
mental,  religious  ;  this  is  also  the  Anniversary  of  the 
Erection  of  the  Cross.  The  year  closes  in  August,  with 
the  Resurrection. 

The  time  of  Christmas  was  changed  for  the  following 
reasons  ; — that  the  month  and  season  of  our  Saviour's  birth 
are  not  known  ;  that  the  25th  of  December,  the  Calendar 
day,  is  of  Gentile  origin,  not  an  insuperable  objection,  provid 
ed  it  were  recommended  by  any  intrinsic  propriety.  But 
this  is  not  the  case.  The  Festival  to  which  that  day  refers, 


250  MARGARET. 

obtaining  among  Northern  nations,  is  only  adapted  to  a 
Northern  latitude.  The  sun's  annual  return,  which  they 
were  wont  to  celebrate,  gave  them  a  cause  of  gratulation  at 
the  expense  of  their  trans-equatorial  brethren,  who  at  the 
same  moment  were  mourning  its  withdrawal.  Such  an 
arrangement  would  not  be  cosmopolitan  and  universal 
enough  for  Christ-Church.  Therefore  we  selected  an 
equinoctial  point,  when  it  shines  with  the  same  strength  on 
all  portions  of  the  globe.  So  far  as  Livingston  is  concerned, 
there  were  few  or  no  preexisting  Ecclesiastical  prejudices 
to  be  affected,  and  the  people  were  at  full  liberty  to  select 
what  time  they  chose.  This  Festival  with  us  is  not  taken 
up  solely  with  the  Birth  of  Christ,  it  contemplates  in  ad 
dition  his  Second  Coming,  i.  e.  his  spiritual  revelation  in 
the  hearts  and  lives  of  his  disciples.  So  looking  both 
backward  and  forward,  it  may  well  occupy  some  central 
point.  On  most  of  our  Festivals,  there  is  a  short  religious 
exercise  in  the  Church.  The  Poor  in  Spirit  is  a  season  of 
sober  introspection,  humility  and  prayer.  The  Crucifixion 
has  for  its  objects  to  effect  within  us  a  crucifixion  to  the 
world  and  of  the  world  to  us.  We  become  truly  partakers 
of  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  his  temptation,  his  reproach,  his 
cross-bearing,  his  dying.  Childmas,  in  May,  gives  several 
holidays  to  the  children.  They  have  a  May-pole,  May- 
dances,  and  a  Queen  of  May.  They  go  into  the  woods  for 
evergreens  and  flowers.  In  the  evening  the  Band  play  for 
them,  and  they  dance  with  their  parents  on  the  Green. 
You  will  see  them  going  down  in  the  morning,  from 
Breakneck  and  Snakehill,  blithe  as  the  birds  ;  the  girls 
dressed  in  white,  and  the  boys  in  blue-checked  linen.  This 
Festival  is  also  devoted  by  the  people  at  large  to  orna 
menting  the  streets,  replenishing  the  flowers  of  the  Ceme 
tery,  and  planting  shrubbery  about  their  houses.  Indc- 


CHRIST-CHURCH    FESTIVALS.  251 

pendence  day,  the  4th  of  July,  we  have  an  Oration,  a  rural 
dinner  and  a  dance  in  the  evening  at  the  Masonic  Hall. 
This  is  a  superb  room,  over  the  Town  House,  which  the 
Masons  have  freely  relinquished  to  our  use  whenever  we 
want  it.  They  always  unite  with  us  in  keeping  this 
Festival.  The  Resurrection,  in  August,  seeks  to  realize 
for  us  that  spiritual  resurrection  from  sin  which  St.  Paul 
strove  to  attain,  and  which  Christ  so  perfectly  enjoyed.  It 
also  looks  to  the  final  elimination  of  the  spirit  from  the  body. 
The  Festival  of  Love  in  June  would  advance  us  in  that 
love  which  thinketh  no  evil,  beareth  all  things,  is  the  bond 
of  perfection,  the  seal  of  our  being  born  of  God,  and  fulfils 
the  law.  The  Pure  in  Heart,  among  other  things,  is  de 
voted  to  a  general  School  visitation.  The  School-houses 
are  filled  with  parents  and  friends  ;  the  scholars  examined, 
and  addresses  made.  The  election  of  the  May  Queen  is 
made  to  turn  somewhat  on  these  examinations.  She  who 
received  the  crown  this  year  was  Belinda,  daughter  of 
Zenas  Joy.  Peacemaker's  day,  coming  the  first  of  January, 
is  supplied  with  whatever  of  interest  attaches  to  that  epoch. 
Thanksgiving  is  observed  agreeably  to  immemorial  New 
England  usages,  bating  the  Turkey-shoot  at  No.  4,  and 
Horse-racing  ;  the  Ball  at  Mr.  Smith's  has  been  supplanted 
by  a  general  dance  at  the  Masonic  Hall.  Our  Festivals 
are  not  put  by  for  Sunday,  but  when  they  fall  on  that  day, 
which  not  infrequently  happens,  the  Bishop  prepares  dis 
courses  accordingly.  Thus  is  the  whole  year  interwoven 
and  girded  about  by  these  beautiful  occasions;  some  of  them 
exceedingly  joyous  and  gay,  others  more  sedate  and  re 
flective.  What  Herbert  says  of  them  I  dare  not ; — 
"  Who  loves  not  you,  doth  in  vain  profess 
That  he  loves  God,  or  Heaven,  or  Happiness." 

Yet  we  do  love  them,  and  that,  because  we  love  God  and 
Happiness. 


252  MARGARET. 


The  sectaries  have  sought  to  introduce  themselves  among 
us.  Our  Bishop  freely  offered  them  his  pulpit,  but  they 
refused  to  occupy  it;  he  proposed  exchanges  that  were 
declined.  They  would  not  join  in  our  Communion,  al 
though  the  emblems  are  tendered  to  all  who  love  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.  They  kept  aloof  from  our  festivals.  We 
have  all  been  baptized,  and  nearly  two  hundred  the  Bishop 
has  immersed.  What  could  they  want !  They  came  one 
night,  nearly  forty  of  them,  preachers  and  all,  from  Duri- 
wich  to  Snakekill.  The  superintendent  of  the  Schools  in 
lhat  District  had  orders  to  open  the  School-house  to  them. 
The  Bishop,  Mr.  Evelyn,  Deacon  Bowker  and  several  went 
up  ;  the  room  was  full.  The  Bishop  remarked  we  should 
be  glnd  to  hear  any  thing  they  had  to  say,  and  hoped  they 
would  express  themselves  freely.  One  began  to  speak  but 
he  appeared  embarrassed  and  stopped.  Then  one  of  their 
leaders  fell  upon  his  knees  saying,  "  Let  us  pray,"  and  pray 
he  did,  nearly  half  an  hour,  and  with  stentorian  voice. 
Such  a  prayer  may  it  never  be  my  lot  to  hear  again  !  He 
argued  with  us,  philippized  us,  denounced  us,  and  as 
Nimrod  said,  "whipped  us  over  the  Almighty's  back!" 
Has  the  Prince  of  Puppetdom  in  reserve  a  more  horrid 
piece  of  drollery  ?  Deacon  Whiston  could  not  contain  him 
self ;  like  Elijah  of  old  he  mocked  them,  and  said,  "  Cry 
aloud,  for  he  is  a  god  ;  either  he  is  deaf,  or  is  talking,  or  is 
on  a  journey."  "  There  is  no  voice,  nor  any  that  answer- 
eth,"  added  the  Bishop.  The  effect  was  irresistible.  The 
meeting  was  broken  up,  and  those  most  misguided  people 
mounting  their  horses  made  all  haste  to  depart. 

They  would  convert  us  from  what?  Christ  himself! 
To  what,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  good  ?  To  John 
Wesley,  or  John  Calvin !  They  would  save  our  souls. 


CHRIST-CHURCH     FESTIVALS.  253 

These  are  already  saved,  or  at  least  Christ  is  doing  that 
work  for  us  hour  by  hour.  They  have  been  in  various 
parts  of  the  town  endeavoring  to  ply  the  ridiculous  enginery 
of  God's  wrath  and  eternal  damnation.  They  are  eighteen 
hundred  years  behind  the  age,  our  Christian  age  at  least. 
As  Nimrod  says,  they  "  are  barking  up  the  wrong  tree." 
I  have  no  grudge  against  these  people.  Some  of  them 
have  excellent  private  qualities.  Whatever  there  is  of  the 
Christian  in  them  I  like,  and  there  we  and  they  agree,  and 
that  ought  to  be  a  common  foundation  broad  enough  for  us 
all  to  stand  upon.  But  the  Ism  is  the  difficulty.  This 
governs  their  action,  this  they  would  thrust  upon  us.  Their 
Ismaticalness  conceals  and  extrudes  the  Christian.  We 
meet  them  as  Christians,  they  meet  us  as  Isinatics.  It  is 
Christ  versus  Isms.  Which  shall  prevail  ? 

Lycurgus  forbade  the  entrance  of  strangers  into  Laconia, 
and  the  departure  of  his  subjects.  He  was  afraid  of  con 
tamination.  The  gates  of  Livingston  are  ever  open,  come 
in,  go  out,  who  will.  "The  Lord  encampeth  round  about 
them  that  fear  him,"  was  our  Bishop's  text  last  Sunday. 
We  have  thus  far  been  delivered  from  serious  evil.  We 
are  not  afraid  of  the  world,  only  the  world  must  expect  to 
get  most  condignly  meal-powdered,  if  it  undertakes  mischief 
against  us.  We  have  in  Livingston,  nine  hundred  members 
of  Christ-Church,  bold  hearts,  true  hearts,  completely  clad 
in  the  armor  of  God,  ready  for  any  battles  of  the  Lord  ;  and 
equally  ready  to  die  at  the  stake,  if  needs  be.  "  If  the 
Lord  were  pleased  to  kill  us,  he  would  not  have  received  a 
burnt-offering  at  our  hands,  and  showed  us  all  these 
things,"  our  Bishop  says.  "  Cursed  cows  have  short 
horns,"  Deacon  Rarnsdill  says.  And  plantain  thrives  best 
when  it  is  most  trod  upon,  that  I  know.  Pray  for  us  that 
we  may  be  able  to  go  safely  through  all  fiery  trials. 

VOL.  ii.  22 


254  MARGARET. 

It  is  related  that  the  Cyclops  for  their  savageness  and 
cruelty  were  condemned  to  Tartarus  ;  but  that  Tellus,  the 
Goddess  of  the  Earth,  persuaded  Jupiter  it  would  be  for 
his  interest  to  employ  them  in  forging  thunder-bolts,  and 
other  instruments  of  terror  with  a  frightful  and  continued 
din  of  the  anvil.  When  I  call  to  mind  certain  kinds  of 
preaching  I  remember  to  have  heard,  and  which  I  am  told 
every  where  abound,  I  reflect  that  Christ  banished  all  such 
things  from  his  kingdom  ;  but  the  gods  of  this  lower  world 
have  persuaded  themselves  it  would  be  for  the  interest  of 
the  Supreme  to  have  these  Cyclops  recalled,  and  our 
pulpits  are  full  of  their  din  !  Where,  alas  !  where  is  the 
sweet,  gentle,  loving  voice  of  Jesus,  a  voice  that  would  not 
lift  itself  up,  nor  cry,  but  did  sometimes  weep  ? 

The  Preacher,  he  whom  I  first  heard  in  the  words  some 
years  ago,  acts  singularly.  He  hovered  about  Livingston, 
peeping  in  upon  us,  and  then  running  away.  He  said  he 
believed  the  Latter  Days  were  come  ;  then  he  hid  himself 
in  the  woods,  and  nobody  heard  from  him  for  a  long  time. 
At  last  he  came  to  the  village,  is  now  an  attentive  waiter  on 
our  Bishop's  ministrations,  and  says  he  is  resolved  to  be 
come  a  Missionary,  and  disseminate  the  principles  of  Christ 

Church  in  the  world. 

*          ******* 

We  have  had  various  sorts  of  people  among  us  within 
two  or  three  years,  and  with  an  equal  variety  of  motives  ; 
Congregationalists,  Presbyterians,  Episcopalians,  Catholics, 
Armenians,  Russians,  Greeks,  Jews,  Mohammedans,  Hin 
doos.  The  latter  were  foreigners,  gentlemen  travelling  the 
world  in  pursuit  of  knowledge.  We  had  most  of  them  at 
our  house.  What  should  happen  one  Sunday,  but  that  a 
venerable  Presbyterian  Doctor  of  Divinity,  a  Jew,  and  a 
Mohammedan,  sat  in  the  same  pew  in  Christ-Church,  and 


SECTARIAN   DISTINCTIONS    VANISH.  255 

as  it  was  Communion  day,  they  all  partook  of  the  Sacra 
ment  together,  and  after  service,  came  to  Mons  Christi  in 
company !  The  Doctor  remarked  he  had  always  preached 
faith  in  Christ,  and  the  regeneration  of  our  natures,  "  but  I 
declare,"  said  he,  "  I  never  understood  these  things  before, 
or  saw  them  so  happily  exemplified."  The  Jew  said, 
laughing,  if  it  were  not  for  our  pig-pen,  he  believed  he 
should  be  a  Christian.  The  Mohammedan  published  an 
account  of  his  travels,  and  from  Teheran,  in  Persia,  I 
received  a  copy  done  in  Arabic.  We  taxed  our  wits,  and 
at  the  same  time  gratified  our  vanities,  in  translating  it. 
The  chapter  on  Livington  would  amuse  you.  The  author  has 
even  given  a  description  of  me  !  This  is  a  precious  tidbit, 
and  I  shall  not  endanger  it  by  committing  it  to  the  post- 
rider.  You  shall  see  it,  when  you  visit  us.  One  of  the 
Hindoos — there  were  two  of  them  in  company,  and  Brah 
mins,  I  believe — said  he  would  leave  with  us  words  from 
their  sacred  books  ;  as  follows.  "  Truth,  contentment, 
patience,  mercy,  belong  to  great  minds."  "  A  man  of 
excellent  qualities  is  like  a  ilower,  which  whether  found 
among  weeds,  or  worn  on  the  head,  still  preserves  its 
fragrance."  An  Episcopal  Bishop  was  here,  and  he  said 
that  sooner  than  deny  the  Apostolic  authority  of  our 
Bishop,  he  would  forego  his  own.  He  said  this  to  us,  but 
whether  he  wished  it  to  go  abroad  to  the  world,  is  more 
than  I  know.  Such  are  some  of  the  pleasant  records  of 
visits  we  have  had.  That  other  things  of  a  very  different 
nature  have  been  said  and  done,  I  cannot  deny.  But  I 
should  tire  you  by  reporting  all  the  evil  there  is  in  the 
world,  or  the  want  of  love  which  many  betray  who  come 
here.  "  Father,  forgive  them,  they  know  not  what  they 
do !  "  What  a  prayer  was  that !  Let  us  aspire  to  it. 
Here  is  another  affair  for  you.  One  day  there  came  to 


256  MARGABET. 

our  house  a  gentleman  with  a  letter  from  his  Holiness  Pope 
Pius  VII.  addressed  to  us  as  his  dear  children,  and  recom 
mending  to   our  care  the  bearer  and   his  objects.      The 
bearer  was  a  Roman   Cardinal,  and   his   objects  thus  ap 
peared.     He  said  the  Pope  had  learned  that  we  had  erected 
the  Cross,  and  that  he  hoped  to  find  us  obedient  children  o* 
the   Holy  Catholic  Church.     We  told  him  we  belonged  to 
that  Church.     He  said  he  hoped  to  effect  our  affiliation 
with  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.     We  told  him  that  we 
fellowshipped  all  churches  in  which  was  the  spirit  of  Christ, 
and  that  so  far  as  the  Roman  Church  possessed  that,  we 
were  happy  to  belong  to  it.     He  then  said  something  about 
allegiance.      "  What,"  said  Mr.  Evelyn,  "  to  Pope  Pius  ?  " 
"  Not   exactly  that,"  replied   the   gentleman.      "  To   the 
Council  of  Trent  ?  "  persisted  Mr.  Evelyn.     u  I  perceive  I 
have  made  a  mistake,"  said  the  gentleman,  and  making  a 
very  polite  apology  started  to  leave.      "  Give  our  sincere 
respects  to  the  Pope,"  said  Mr.  Evelyn,  "  tell  him  we  pay 
him    the   allegiance   due   to   him,   that   contained   in   the 
Apostolic  direction  to  honor  all  men.      If  he  should  come 
this  way  we  hope  he  will  give  us  a  call."      The  Cardinal 
had  not  reached  the  door  when  an  Armenian  Prelate  was 
announced  from  Syria.      He  said  he  understood  we  were 
Monophysites,  and  wished  to  ascertain  if  we  were  not  a  lost 
branch  of  their  Church  established  in  this  country  centuries 
ago.     While  he  was  yet  speaking  a  Patriarch  of  the  Greek 
Church  came  in.      He  said  he  had  been  told  we  denied  the 
Procession  of  the  Holy  Ghost  from  the  Son,  and  hoped  to 
find  us  identified  with  his  order.       Presently  we  had  them 
all  three  seated  and  pleasantly  talking  together.     We  sent 
for  our  Bishop,  and  they  all  dined  with  us.       The  Greek 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross  with  three  fingers,  the  Armenian 
with  two,  and  the  Catholic  with   his  hand  indiscriminately. 


THE      CONDITION    OF    LIVINGSTON.  257 

We  took  them  in  our  carriage  to  the  village  and  about  the 
town.  They  passed  the  night  at  our  house.  Having  other 
friends  with  us,  we  could  not  give  them  each  a  room ;  and 
the  Roman  Cardinal  and  Greek  Patriarch  slept  in  the  same 
bed ;  an  event,  Mr.  Evelyn  said,  that  had  probably  not 
happened  since  the  year  1054,  when  Pope  Leo  X.  and  the 
Patriarch  Cerularius  excommunicated  each  other.  At 
devotions  in  the  morning,  the  Greek  read  the  hymn,  the 
Armenian  read  the  Scripture,  and  the  Catholic  made  the 
prayer.  They  left  us,  and  we  have  heard  nothing  from 
them  since.  I  hope  when  these  gentlemen  reach  home 
they  will  not  suffer,  as  did  that  Timagorus  ;  who,  sent  on 
an  embassy  to  Persia  and  conforming  to  some  of  the  usages 
of  that  Court,  at  his  return  was  put  to  death  by  the  Athe 
nians,  who  thought  the  dignity  of  their  city  compromised  by 
his  conduct. 

MARGARET    TO     ANNA. 

We  have  had  a  more  considerable  alarm,  the  causes  and 
course  of  which  I  will  speak  of.     Livingston  you  know  has 
been  the   subject   of  public   remark,   and   perhaps    some 
scandal.     The  conduct  of  our  people  in  military  matters 
has   gone  abroad  to  their  prejudice ;    in  addition,  Judge 
Morgridge  has  been  accused  of  remissness  in  duty  ;   it  was 
said  that  he  had  not  sent  so  many  convicts  to  the  State 
Prison  as  formerly,  and  that  he  shortened  the  term  of  such 
as  were  committed  to  the  Jail.      It  was  intimated  that  we 
had  rendered  ourselves  obnoxious  to  Legislative  severity, 
and  some  punitive  action  on  the  part  of  the  government  was 
apprehended.      A  memorial  to  the  General  Court  was  got 
up,  and  signed  by  nearly  a  thousand  of  our  people,  men, 
women  and  children,  setting  forth  our  condition  and  most 
22* 


258  MARGARET. 

earnest  wishes.  Deacon  Bowker  was  our  representative 
at  the  time  ;  he  read  the  memorial,  but  added  nothing,  only 
took  his  seat,  and  as  he  said,  prayed  God  to  aid  the  issue. 
The  Legislature,  in  a  manner  that  does  credit  equally  to 
their  prudence  and  humanity,  ordered  an  investigation  of 
the  case  ;  and  a  Committee  was  raised  to  visit  Livingston 
and  report  at  the  next  session.  Two  gentlemen  with 
plenipotentiary  powers  of  inspection  came  amongst  us. 
They  were  here  frequently,  and  in  fact  spent  several  weeks 
of  the  year  on  their  object.  We  sought  neither  to  meal- 
powder  nor  gold-blind  them,  but  showed  them  the  civilities 
due  to  all,  and  maintained  the  uniformity  due  to  ourselves. 
They  tell  the  story  of  a  young  painter,  who  being  very 
poor  was  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  converting  one  of  his 
pictures  into  lining  for  his  jacket  ;  and  thus  exposed  his 
genius  by  wearing  it  on  his  back.  Livingston  wears  its 
virtues  on  its  back — and  in  its  heart  too — where  they  can 
be  seen  at  a  glance  : — but  to  my  story. 

The  Committee  made  up  their  report  which,  having  been 
printed,  swells  into  a  large  pamphlet.  I  will  give  you  a 
syllabus  of  it.  They  say  our  roads  are  in  fine  order,  in 
fact  none  are  better  in  the  State  ;  that  the  whole  town  has 
a  striking  aspect  of  neatness  and  thrift ;  that  during  all  the 
time  of  their  visit  they  saw  not  one  drunken  man,  while  in 
most  towns  such  characters  appeared  without  looking  for 
them ;  that  the  consumption  of  intoxicating  drinks  has 
diminished  from  six  or  eight  thousand  gallons  annually  to  a 
few  scores  ;  that  the  amount  paid  for  schools  has  risen 
from  three  or  four  hundred  dollars  to  two  thousand;  that 
all  taxes  laid  by  the  State  and  County  have  been  promptly 
paid  ;  that  our  poor  have  lessened  three-quarters  ;  they  say 
also  that  the  value  of  real  estate  in  Livingston  has  ad 
vanced  twenty  per  cent.,  and  that  wholly  exclusive  of  the 


THE    CONDITION    OF    LIVINGSTON.  259 

improvements  on  Mons  Christ! ;  and  that  the  mania  for 
removing  to  the  West,  which  prevails  all  over  New  Eng 
land,  has  here  subsided. 

On  the  charges  preferred  against  Judge  Morgridge,  so 
far  as  his  connection  with  this  town  and  vicinity  are  con 
cerned,  they  report  in  the  first  place  that  fewer  criminal 
actions  have  been  brought  before  him  than  formerly,  and 
those  of  a  less  malefic  nature;  and  that  the  number  of 
prisoners  in  the  Jail  has  fallen  from  forty  or  fifty  to  eight 
or  ten,  and  only  one  of  these  belonged  to  Livingston. 
They  next  inquire  if  these  facts  are  to  be  attributed  to  the 
official  negligence  of  the  Judge,  or  to  an  actual  decrease  of 
crime.  On  this  point,  which  is  elaborated  with  consider 
able  care,  thanks  to  those  gentlemen,  I  will  give  you  the 
results  of  their  observation.  They  say  that  during  the  last 
four  years  since  the  enlargement  of  the  Jail,  the  addition 
to  the  comfort  of  the  inmates,  and  the  practice  here  adopted 
of  visiting  them  frequently,  and  attending  to  their  moral 
condition,  the  recommitments  have  almost  entirely  ceased  ; 
whereas  in  former  times  these  constituted  nearly  one  half 
of  the  subjects  of  prosecution  ;  and  they  consent  that  our 
mode  tends  really  to  reform  the  prisoner,  and  restore  him  a 
useful  citizen  to  the  State ;  and  they  say  they  see  not 
cause  for  censuring  the  Judge  who  sends  convicts  rather  to 
the  Jail,  where  their  morals  and  manners  are  amended, 
than  to  the  State  Prison  where  the  reverse  is  wont  to  be 
fall.  The  Committee  came  evidently  possessed  with  the 
suspicion,  which  some  have  taken  the  pains  to  create  in  the 
public  mind,  that  we  shielded  our  criminals  and  tried  to 
snatch  them  from  justice.  They  say  they  have  canvassed 
the  whole  town,  explored  by-places,  gone  into  private 
dwellings,  watched  about  taverns,  traversed  the  streets  by 
night,  and  cannot  find  any  criminals  ;  that  the  people  ap- 


260  MARGARET. 

pear  to  be  industrious,  time-saving,  minders-of-their-own- 
business,  and  free  from  the  ordinary  tokens  of  guilt. 
They  speak  also  of  the  absence  of  petty  offences,  which 
exist  almost  everywhere  ;  and  we  could  tell  them  once 
flourished  here,  such  as  unhinging  gates,  hanging  cart 
wheels  on  trees,  plundering  hen-roosts,  shearing  horses, 
etc.,  etc.  They  add,  pleasantly  enough,  that,  while  they 
have  been  in  a  hundred  houses,  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  they 
have  not  heard  a  woman  speak  scandal,  or  scold  her 
children.  They  remark  that  a  petition  for  divorce  from 
Hopestill  Cutts  and  his  wife,  formerly  pending  before  the 
Legislature,  has  been  withdrawn ;  and  here,  as  all  along, 
apprehensive  of  some  collusion,  they  declare  they  made 
such  an  investigation  as  perfectly  satisfied  them  these 
people  were  living  in  harmony  and  love. 

Regarding  the  nature  and  extent  of  the  penalty,  they  say 
Judge  Morgridge  has  generally  adopted  the  minimum  point 
of  the  law,  which  he  thinks  has  proved  itself  to  be  adequate 
both  for  the  protection  of  the  community  and  the  punish 
ment  of  the  offender.  They  report  a  visit  to  the  Jail, 
where  they  say  they  found  what  appeared  to  be  a  radical 
change  going  on  in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  convicts. 
The  fact  that  few  are  recommitted  indicates,  they  say,  that 
the  accommodations  of  the  Prison  do  not  offer  a  premium 
on  crime.  Another  circumstance  which  demonstrates  to 
their  minds  the  actual  cessation  of  offences,  is  the  abolition 
of  the  use  of  intoxicating  drinks.  The  able-bodied  poor, 
who  used  to  waste  their  time  and  aggravate  their  indolence 
by  liquors,  they  found  soberly  working  and  wisely  econo 
mizing.  Our  merchants  also  told  them  the  people  traded 
as  liberally  and  paid  more  punctually  than  ever,  and  that 
they  had  less  occasion  for  prosecutions.  Thus,  in  various 
ways,  the  Committee  profess  themselves  satisfied  that  there 


THE    CONDITION    OF    LIVINGSTON.  261 

is  a  diminution  both  in  the  causes  and  the  sum  of  criminal 
ity  ;  and  they  report  a  resolve  which  entirely  exonerates 
the  Judge  from  the  charge  of  infidelity  to  the  laws,  and 
carelessness  of  the  good  of  the  State. 

As  regards  military  drills,  our  people  made  a  solemn 
exhibit  to  the  Committee  of  what  formerly  existed  here,  the 
intoxication,  profanity,  gambling,  horse-racing,  brawling, 
dissipation  of  time,  wreck  of  morals,  etc.,  the  offsprings  of 
those  occasions  ;  and  furthermore,  they  protested,  that  as 
members  of  Christ-Church,  as  Christians,  as  believers  in 
the  Gospel,  they  could  not  conscientiously  engage  in  taking, 
or  preparing  to  take,  the  lives  of  their  fellow-beings,  in 
premeditated  battle.  "I  lost  my  all  in  one  war,"  said 
Captain  Tuck,  "and  am  prepared  to  do  the  same  in 
another.  Take  our  property,  consign  us  to  dungeons,  load 
us  with  chains,  but  do  not  compel  us  to  violate  our  con 
sciences.  I  am  under  orders  from  the  Lord  Almighty, 
Jesus  Christ  is  my  Commander-in-Chief,  in  their  service  I 
deem  it  my  highest  honor  to  live,  or  to  die."  Our  people 
affirmed,  in  addition,  that  the  military  expenses  of  the  town, 
taking  the  matter  in  all  ways,  had  not  been  less  than  one 
thousand  dollars  a  year;  some  said  two  thousand  ;  and  that 
they  needed  the  money  for  other  purposes.  They  added 
that  they  were  willing  to  pay  such  taxes  as  the  government 
imposed,  and  only  sought  the  ability  to  pay.  These  facts 
the  Committee  reported  without  comment.  They  were 
present  at  several  of  our  Festivals,  at  Christ-Church  on  the 
Sabbath,  at  our  Town  Meetings,  and  dances,  and  expressed 
a  general  satisfaction  in  what  they  saw. 

And  now  what  is  the  good  news  I  have  to  tell  you  ? — 
this,  that  in  the  ultimate  decision  of  the  Legislature,  it  was 
voted  nearly  unanimously  by  both  houses,  that  Judge 
Morgridge  should  not  be  disturbed  in  his  office,  and  that  the 


262  MARGARET^ 

Town  of  Livingston  should  be  exempt  from  all  Military 
duty !  It  was  the  Summer  Session,  when  the  resolve  was 
finally  passed,  and  Deacon  Bowker  arrived  with  the  glad 
intelligence  Independence  day  ;  our  fears  took  flight  in 
raptures,  and  our  ordinary  good  cheer  creamed  like  a 
tankard  of  beer.  Master  Elliman's  toast  was  quite  charac 
teristic  ;  "  Our  Legislature,  a  convert  from  Thomas  Aquinas 
to  Duns  Scotus." 

There  has  been  a  multiplication  of  travel  hither,  and  the 
influx  of  strangers  is  incessant  and  great.  One  advantage 
the  people  say  they  begin  to  realize  from  their  mode  of 
life  ;  that  is  money.  Mr.  Stillwater  says  his  tavern  profits 
exceed  by  far  those  of  other  years.  The  people  generally 
speak  of  increased  sales,  on  this  score.  Many  orchards, 
formerly  miserable  rum-lots,  have  been  converted  into  pro 
ductive  fruiteries.  We  have  imported  grafts,  and  new 
seed,  and  now  they  raise  choice  apples,  pears  and  peaches, 
that  find  a  ready  market  any  where.  Some  of  the  people, 
who  cannot  confine  themselves  wholly  to  cold  water,  make 
cider,  by  an  improved  process,  which  Mr.  Evelyn  says,  is 
equal  to  the  purest  wines  of  France. 

Dr.  Johnson  tells  a  story  of  Steele,  to  this  effect.  The 
essayist  having  one  day  invited  to  his  house  several  per 
sons  of  quality,  they  were  surprised  at  the  number  of  liver 
ies  that  surrounded  the  table.  One  of  the  guests  inquired 
of  Steele,  how  such  a  train  of  domestics  could  be  consistent 
with  his  fortune,  for  he  was  known  to  be  poor.  He  frank 
ly  confessed  they  were  fellows  of  whom  he  would  very  will 
ingly  be  rid ;  but  declared  they  were  bailiffs,  who  had 
introduced  themselves  with  an  execution,  and  whom,  since 
he  could  not  send  them  away,  he  had  found  it  convenient  to 
embellish  with  liveries,  that  they  might  do  him  credit  while 
they  did  stay.  How  much  of  the  equipage,  the  appoint- 


AGRICULTURAL    IMPROVEMENTS.  263 

ments,  the  furniture,  the  dress,  of  the  world,  is  a  sort  of  liv 
ened  bailiff,  who,  as  soon  as  the  feast  is  over,  will  take 
every  thing  from  you  !  Whatever  decorations  Livingston- 
ians  exhibit,  are  their  own,  their  debts  are  paid. 

Mr.  Evelyn  has  accomplished  a  good  deal  with  the  some 
what  rugged  soil  of  Mons  Christi.  Last  year  he  sold,  in 
New  York,  four  hundred  bushels  of  apples,  at  an  average 
of  seventy-five  cents  per  bushel.  He  raised  also  six  hun 
dred  bushels  of  rye,  corn  and  oats,  potatoes,  and  other 
things  as  many  as  we  want.  We  have  six  cows,  and  such 
cream,  butter,  cheese — did  you  ever  taste  better?  Our 
sheep,  hogs,  turkeys,  ducks,  hens,  are  innumerable.  In  the 
Saw-mill,  at  the  Outlet,  we  have  put  a  run  of  stone,  and 
grind  our  own  grain.  The  Notch  through  the  hill  from  the 
Via  Salutaris  to  the  Outlet  is  now  a  fine  road,  and  a  fine 
drive  ;  and  that  wild  and  superb  scenery  back  of  the  high 
lands  is  accessible  to  all.  Balboa,  he  that  discovered  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  when  he  came  in  sight  of  it,  fell  on  his 
knees  and  thanked  God  ;  then  plunging  into  the  water  up 
to  his  waist,  with  his  sword  and  buckler,  took  possession  in 
the  name  of  his  sovereign.  We  have  just  reached  the  edge 
of  this  illimitable,  whale-bearing,  sky-cleaving  Nature  ;  with 
hoe  and  axe,  microscope  and  alembic,  love  and  health,  we 
take  possession  of  it,  in  the  name  of  God  and  Christ,  amen. 
The  Chinese  carry  their  gardens  and  rice-fields  to  the  tops 
of  their  mountains.  What  may  yet  become  of  New  Eng 
land  ?  The  Indians  indeed  are  gone  ;  what  do  we  in  their 
stead  ?  This  suggests  to  me  that  the  remains  of  Pakanaw- 
ket  and  his  grandchild,  after  reposing  so  long  in  the  depths 
of  the  Pond,  at  last  rose  to  the  surface.  We  had  them  bur 
ied  in  the  woods  which  he  pointed  out  as  the  home  of  his 
grandfather  ;  and  over  them  we  put  an  antique  monument 
of  red  sand-stone,  on  which  are  sculptured  their  effigies 


264  MARGARET. 

in  the  style  of  the  Middle  Ages.  In  the  darkest  woods 
they  lie,  but  their  shrine  has  as  many  visitors  as  that  of 
Thomas  a  Becket.  What  more,  what  better  could  we  do  ? 


MR.    EVELYN    TO    ANNA. 

From  the  tone  of  your  letters,  I  gather  that  Margaret  in 
what  she  writes  you,  treats  of  her  own  agency  in  these 
matters  Livingstonian  in  a  manner  somewhat  obscure.  I 
shall  take  the  liberty  to  elucidate  this  point  briefly.  I  do 
not  intend  to  overtax  her  modesty  or  involve  her  singleness 
of  heart,  beyond  what  is  meet ;  but  in  truth  I  must  declare, 
the  first  person  in  her  letters  would  be  more  fitting  and  ex 
act  than  any  second  ;  it  is  she  herself,  and  not  we,  who  is, 
under  God  and  in  Christ,  the  soul  of  all  that  which  we 
now  behold.  This  may  be  as  frankly  avowed  as  it  is  sin 
cerely  felt.  Nor  do  I  fear  inducing  a  dispute  with  my  dear 
wife  by  saying  as  much.  She  knows  that  I  know  it,  and  if 
she  has  not  confidence  enough  in  herself  to  confess  the  fact, 
she  has  in  me  to  yield  to  it.  If  she  has  not  a  consciousness 
of  her  own  strength,  it  is  because  it  is  so  absolutely  and 
plenarily  great  she  lacks  the  contentions  and  annoyances  of 
weakness  which  reveal  to  most  of  us  the  little  strength  we 
do  possess.  Wherein  she  is  conscious  of  her  strength,  she 
so  expends  it  in  action  as  to  leave  no  carking  and  petted 
residuum  to  be  troubled  with.  Her  self-consciousness  is 
not,  what  we  sometimes  behold,  a  crying  infant,  but  a 
grown-up  sister ;  it  resides  quite  as  much  with  her  industry 
as  in  her  heart,  and  she  is  not  obliged  to  quit  her  work  and 
rock  the  cradle  of  herself.  She  thus  escapes  a  morbid  ten 
dency  on  the  one  hand,  and  a  heedless  one  on  the  other ; 
she  can  be  self-forgetful  and  self-moved  ;  she  can  love  and 


MR.    EVELYN  S    LETTER.  200 

she  can  labor.  She  will  not  charge  me  with  any  adroit 
humility  that  seeks  to  hide  itself  under  her  laurels. 

You  have  known,  Anna,  that  I  had  some  vis  in  my  com 
position,  but  of  that  kind  which  the  books  call  mortua,  more 
than  the  description  viva ;  in  other  words,  that  I  was  slug 
gish  and  lazy.  I  saw,  and  thought,  and  speculated  enough. 
I  attained  many  correct  conclusions  ;  but  never  did  any 
thing.  When  I  left  College,  I  soon  convinced  myself,  that 
like  many  other  rare  geniuses,  I  was  doomed  to  be  the  vic 
tim  of  circumstances.  I  was  not  poverty-stricken,  but  man- 
stricken.  The  forms  and  the  spirit  of  error  and  evil  had 
distorted  the  face  of  the  globe  ;  but  why  should  I  attempt 
to  remove  mountains,  or  change  the  beds  of  rivers  ?  Let 
me  travel  over  the  one,  and  sail  on  the  other.  I  would  not 
perish  where  so  many  of  my  kith  and  kin  had  come  to  their 
end,  that  is  to  say,  in  contention.  I  essayed  poetry,  but 
soon  learned,  that  I  had  not  only  to  make  verses,  but  re 
model  the  standards  of  taste ;  that  if  I  would  succeed,  I 
must  first  put  all  the  critics  to  death,  as  the  Emperor 
Hadrian  did  Apollodorus,  for  blaming  the  proportions  of  a 
Temple  he  had  erected.  Of  the  Professions,  Theology  I 
could  not,  Law  and  Medicine  I  would  not ;  and  then,  as  a 
last  resort,  I  concluded  to  fall  in  love  with  a  very  pretty 
and  very  poor  girl,  here  in  Livingston.  I  knew  I  could 
live  with  her,  whereas  I  must  die  in  all  the  world  besides. 
Well  for  me  that  I  had  sense  enough  to  understand  her,  or 
heart  enough  to  love  her.  I  could  always  philosophize,  but 
lacked  the  energy  of  execution.  In  place  of  hastening  the 
better  day,  I  was  disposed  to  yield  most  implicit  obedience 
to  that  direction  of  the  Apostle,  "  Wait  until  the  Lord 
come."  Margaret's  energy  has  inspired  all  my  capabilities, 
and  given  motion  to  my  will.  But  more  than  this,  for  ex 
ample,  I  could  sit  with  Phidias  in  his  studio,  and  out  of 

VOL.  IT.  23 


266  MARGARET. 

ideal  gold  and  ivory  make  a  Jupiter,  with  all  suitable  en 
richments.  She  takes  the  veritable  materials,  and  the 
statue  is  done.  Thus  is  our  whole  history ;  I  have  been 
able  to  impart  a  certain  fanciful  existence  to  Ideality  ;  she 
perpetually  reduces  the  same  to  the  Actual.  Nor  does  she 
seem  to  study  her  plan,  with  most  artists,  and  then  go 
to  work ;  she  goes  to  work,  and  the  plan  and  the  result 
are  both  before  you.  She  seems  to  be  only  embodying 
herself  in  what  is  about  her,  her  profuse  and  impulsive  being 
creates  life  in  all  things,  her  own  going  forth  is  the  signal 
for  the  appearance  of  Beauty  and  Virtue ;  she  translates 
Nature  to  Man  ;  and  Man  to  himself.  I  talk  like  a  doting 
husband,  but  this  is  what  I  am,  and  what  she  has  made  me. 

She  was  reared  on  bread  and  cider,  and  bean  porridge  ; 
she  slept  in  a  cold  chamber,  she  hardened  her  constitution 
among  snow-banks  ;  her  mind,  never  overloaded,  was 
always  occupied  ;  her  nature  would  neither  endure,  nor  did 
it  ever  receive,  the  fetters  of  fashion,  conventionality,  dog 
ma,  or  world-fear.  Without  education,  in  the  common 
sense  of  the  term,  her  faculties  were  matured  ;  without  in 
struction  she  was  wise ;  and  having  never  heard  of  Mr. 
Nash,  she  became  graceful  and  polite. 

Christianity  she  was  unembarrassed  to  receive,  and  in 
that  alone  has  she  found  a  master.  For  this  indeed  she 
was  somewhat  prepared  by  her  night-visions  ;  but  when  it 
came,  it  overpowered  and  aggrandized  her.  I  never  could 
have  imagined  so  perfect  an  incarnation  of  Christ  as  she 
is  ;  and  that  without  parting  with  any  of  her  proper  indi 
viduality.  She  drinks  in  Christ  as  the  oaks  do  the  dews, 
to  replenish  herself  in  greater  proportion  and  beauty  there 
by.  The  bread  from  Heaven,  designed  for  the  aliment, 
development,  and  ripening  of  all  souls,  she  feeds  daily 
upon. 


HIS  ACCOUNT  OF  MARGARET.  267 

I  know  not  that  she  is  a  Philosopher,  save  that  she  acts 
philosophically.  Our  Philosophers,  for  the  most  part,  by 
an  industrious  collation  of  many  facts,  like  travellers  with 
heavy  packs  on  their  shoulders,  fare  slowly  up  the  hill  of 
their  conclusions.  On  a  few  facts  her  conclusions  rest ; 
one  fact  stands  with  her  for  many  facts,  and  this  from  a 
certain  comprehensive  and  nice  power  of  analogy  she  pos 
sesses.  That  law  by  which  all  facts  in  the  physical,  moral 
and  religious  world  gravitate  towards  a  common  centre, 
and  coalesce  in  one,  she  has  an  intuitive  perception  of. 
Or  rather  the  soul  of  all  things,  the  Truth  and  Love,  of 
which  facts  are  but  the  signs,  she  understands  by  the  cor 
respondence  of  her  own  soul  therewith.  Hence  is  her  logic 
rapid  and  correct,  and  her  action  perfect  and  sure.  She  has 
perhaps,  more  Philosophy  than  a  Philosopher ;  and  if,  as 
has  been  observed,  History  be  Philosophy  teaching  by 
example,  Nature  is  Margaret  teaching  by  practice. — 
She  also  possesses  much  of  the  Universal  Heart;  a  va 
riety  of  hearts  enter  into  the  ingredients  of  hers.  Hence, 
occupying  the  stand-point  of  the  many,  her  sight  is  exten 
sive,  her  projects  are  feasible,  and  her  success  certain. 

When  I  first  saw  her,  she  was  more  purely  in  a  state  of 
nature  than  any  civilized  person  I  ever  encountered.  To 
this,  partly,  I  attribute  the  power  of  the  Gospel  on  her. — 
Neither  internal  sin  nor  external  evil  had  deformed  or  dis 
eased  her,  and  she  was  prepared,  like  a  new-born  babe,  to 
breathe  the  at'nosj  here  of  Christ  the  moment  she  came  in 
contact  with  it,  and  to  drink  the  sincere  milk  of  the  word. 
I  once  wholly  despaired  of  seeing  I  ristian  ;  she  is  one  ! 
I  might  say,  I  more  than  despaired  of  fulfilling  my  ideal  in 
myself ;  she  has  aided  me  to  do  it !  Christ  pervades  every 
corner  and  cranny  of  her  being  ;  she  is  filled  with  the  full 
ness  of  God. 


268  MARGARET. 

And  yet  she  loves  me  with  a  most  devout  and  child-like 
love.  "  And  yet?  "  Why  should  she  not  ?  In  pursuing 
her  objects  in  town,  she  is  no  dry,  hoarse-voiced,  arrow- 
speeding,  denunciatory,  crochetty,  monomaniac  ;  she  gushes 
up  like  a  fountain,  and  having  supplied  her  home,  has 
enough  wherewithal  to  overflow  and  run  down  the  hill. 
She  is  meek  and  lowly  of  heart  in  an  uncommon  degree. 
Whatever  manly  qualities  she  exhibits,  it  is  without  mascu- 
linenass,  and  she  is  a  woman  without  effeminacy.  She  has 
no  bitterness  of  spirit ;  the  only  person  in  the  world  whom 
she  was  disposed  to  view  as  thoroughly  and  hopelessly  de 
praved,  was  the  Widow  Wright ;  but  I  believe  she  has  got 
the  better  of  that  judgment.  She  has  no  blur  in  her  own 
eyes  when  she  would  remove  that  of  her  brother. 

But  of  her  connection  with  the  Livirigstonian  re-Chris- 
tianization — I  say,  she  may  report  to  you  what  she  does, 
more  than  what  we  do.  This  is  a  palpable  truth.  For 
instance,  our  Festivals ;  I  had  witnessed  their  workings  in 
the  Old  World,  I  was  convinced  of  their  utility  ;  I  could 
relate  their  history,  distinguish  their  errors  and  defects ; 
while  I  was  speaking  on  the  subject,  she  had  elaborated  the 
system  we  now  enjoy.  Is  it  my  doings  or  hers  ?  At  the 
same  time,  standing  as  she  does  in  the  common  heart,  cor 
responding  with  so  many  minds,  it  seemed  to  emanate  as 
much  from  the  people  as  from  herself.  The  hierophancy 
that  exists  in  all  souls  needed  only  to  be  awakened  to 
make  every  one  a  practical  interpreter  of  Nature.  This, 
you  will  recollect,  was  after  the  extraneous  habits  and  fac 
titious  modes  of  the  people  had  somewhat  worn  away,  and 
they  were  prepared  to  act  on  an  original  native  sense  of 
things.  How  this  superincrustation,  hardened  by  many 
years'  duration,  and  even  converted  into  the  commonest  uses 
of  life,  became  removed,  would  puzzle  a  greater  philoso- 


HIS    ACCOUNT    OF    MJLRGU.RET  269 


pher  than  she  thinks  I  am,  to  tell.  Its  disappearance  was 
gradual,  and  jet  perceptible.  The  Spirit  of  God  entered 
into  men's  souls,  and  these  dead  forms  were  uplifted,  the 
oppressive  bands  were  broken  asunder.  Truth  and  Love, 
here  as  everywhere,  like  that  Nebuchadnezzarean  tree,  had 
their  branches  cut  off,  and  its  leaves  shaken  off,  but  the 
'  stump  of  the  roots  was  in  the  earth,  and  needed  but  to  be 
wet  with  the  dew  of  Heaven,  to  shoot  forth  in  primeval, 
p;  radisean  vi<iM*  and  bloom.  Humanity,  like  a  buried 
giant,  heaved  off  its  superincumbence,  and  rose  to  life  ;  Re 
ligion  cast  aside  her  Harlequin  robes. 

Margaret  ever  courted  alliance  with  an  imperishable 
Nature.  The  sentiments  of  Deacon  Ramsdill,  sound  as 
they  are  homely,  must  have  assisted  her.  From  breast  to 
breast  an  electric  fire  spread  itself.  She  subsidized  all  my 
strength,  she  drew  your  brother  into  the  field ;  she  had 
also  most  serviceable  coadjutors  in  many  other  wise  and 
valiant  men  and  women.  Her  knowledge  of  human  nature 
would  strike  you  as  very  great.  She  says  Jesus  Christ 
taught  her  this  knowledge ;  that  since  she  has  been  a 
Christian,  and  a  student  of  the  gospels,  this  intuition,  or 
experience,  has  been  singularly  developed  in  her.  Our 
taking  up  our  abode  at  Mons  Christi  was,  on  the  whole, 
her  own  suggestion ;  what  we  did  for  the  No.  4's,  and  par 
ticularly  the  setting  up  of  the  Statue,  was,  for  the  most 
part,  a  plan  of  hers.  A  pink  she  saw  once  in  one  of  their 
houses  seemed  to  suggest  the  Statue;  and  a  beautiful 
image  of  Diligence  she  felt  would  carry  a  varied  impression 
to  the  hearts  of  those  gross  people,  that  should  work  their 
complete  reformation.  And  the  result  did  not  disappoint 
her.  Many,  many  things  about  our  house,  grounds,  ways, 
and  in  the  town,  are  purely  her  own  inventions.  All  our 
superb  statues  are  chiefly  hers.  I  would  not  applaud  her 
23* 


270  MARGARET. 

at  the  expense  of  any  others.  I  shall  not  write  myself 
altogether  a  "  puppet ; "  your  brother  has  done  a  great 
work  for  us.  He  came  with  purposes,  possibly  not  fully 
ripe,  but  with  talents  of  the  first  order,  and  a  heart  glowing 
with  Christ-like  ambition.  There  is  a  host  besides,  of 
whom,  if  not  the  world,  Livingston  is  worthy. 

Of  Margaret  I  was  speaking.  I  have  translated  to  her  • 
the  whole  of  the  New  Testament ;  and  she,  I  must  concede, 
understands  it  better  than  I  do.  She  has  a  most  accurate 
perception  of  the  general  sense,  she  detects  hidden  springs 
of  beauty,  she  harmonizes  varying  passages  and  contra 
dictory  language,  she  gathers  what  may  be  termed  the 
manner  of  Christ,  his  accents  and  emphases,  his  moods  and 
feelings ;  she  is  not  constrained  by  those  unnatural  promi 
nences  which  to  those  of  us  who  have  been  long  accustomed 
to  hear  particular  topics  discussed,  and  particular  texts 
dwelt  upon,  occur  every  where  in  the  Bible.  A  parable,  a 
trope,  an  hyperbole,  never  embarrasses  her.  There  may 
be  a  reason  for  this,  in  the  fact  that  she  understands  Christ 
so  well ;  she  is,  if  I  may  so  say,  so  much  in  his  vein.  She 
goes  deeper  than  the  partial,  varying  human  letter,  even 
into  the  spirit  of  Jesus,  and  comes  up  full  of  his  meaning. 
Then  she  brings  to  the  Gospel  so  fresh  and  pure  a  nature. 
Do  the  best  I  can,  I  still  find  myself  stumbling  upon  certain 
passages  that  have  been  detached  from  their  proper  place 
in  the  sacred  text,  inwrought  into  some  human  system,  and 
invested  with  a  sense  wholly  remote  from  the  original.  She 
has  been  troubled  by  no  systems,  and  these  passages,  to  her, 
all  melt  down,  and  flow  on  in  harmony  with  the  great 
stream  of  Gospel  truth. 

My  dearest  wife !  I  see  her  now  on  the  Pond.  She 
comes  from  the  Islands  ;  arid  our  little  Gottfried  is  with 
her.  Her  head  is  wreathed  with  evergreens,  and  the  boy 


MARGARET'S  ACCOUNT  OF  HERSELF.  271 

has  a  cincture  of  the  same.  With  featest  stroke  she  drives 
forward  her  canoe,  firmly  the  child  clutches  the  seat. 
Happy  husband  and  father  of  so  good  a  wife,  so  good  a 
child  am  I !  Fresh  and  warm  is  she  in  heart  and  com 
plexion,  as  when  I  with  her  first  looked  on  these  beautiful 
waters.  Yearly  does  my  love  for  her  increase,  with  every 
holy  deed  our  souls  are  knitted  more  closely  together,  She 
leaps  upon  the  beach,  she  runs  along  the  grass,  the  little 
Gottfried  chases  his  mother.  I  must  go  and  meet  them, 
for  I  am  made  young  and  agile  too.  She  will  bide  what  I 
have  written  ;  she  never  blushes  at  truth,  but  only  when  I 
love  her. 


MARGARET    TO    ANNA. 

From  the  same  fountain  flow  tears  and  smiles !  How 
curiously  we  are  made.  My  cheeks  tingle,  my  heart  goes 
pit-a-pat.  Mr.  Evelyn  would  not  send  off  his  letter  with 
out  showing  it  to  me.  All  the  world  may  speak  well  or  ill 
of  me ;  I  take  it,  as  Nimrod  says  a  horse  does  the  bit,  very 
coolly.  His  censure  or  approbation  quite  undoes  me. 
What  is  he  not  to  me  ?  When  other  things  are  so  much,  how 
much  is  he  !  God,  Christ,  and  Mr.  Evelyn  ;  the  Infinite 
and  the  Finite,  in  triune,  golden  chain  encircle  me,  in  one 
sweet  heaven  embosom  me.  Man  is  that  wind-harp,  through 
which  the  breath  of  God  sounds  so  softly,  as  in  the  thick 
pines.  Mr.  Evelyn  revealed  Christ  to  me,  Christ  revealed 
God  to  him.  Dear,  dear,  thrice  dear  Mr.  Evelyn.  Does 
he  not  know  how  much  my  strength  is  nourished  from  him, 
as  well  as  from  bean  porridge  ?  He  has  not  told  you  how 
I  watched  him  when  he  was  asleep  ;  nor  how  I  vibrate  to 
his  voice  when  he  calls  me  in  the  garden ;  nor  how  I  wait 


272  MAR0ARBT. 

upon  his  words,  his  opinions,  his  judgments.  When  he  was 
gone  so  long,  and  so  far  away,  I  cherished  him,  as  a 
hidden  birth  in  my  soul,  which  his  coming  alone  brought 
into  life.  Did  I  not  tell  you,  Anna,  how  much  I  loved 
him  ?  Yet  you  understood  something  of  me,  and  more  of 
him,  and  you  could  not  be  surprised  that  I  did  love  him. 
But  when  he  left  for  Europe,  I  knew  not  that  I  should  ever 
see  him  again,  and  he  did  not  write  me.  What  unde  •• 
these  circumstances  could  a  girl  like  me  do  ?  Why,  love 
in  silence,  the  same  as  fishes  swim.  You  are  a  woman,  and 
you  know  what  that  is  ;  and  we  are  women,  Rose  says,  and 
A\  e  are  but  women,  I  allow.  It  never  occurred  to  me  that 
I  was  poor,  or  that  I  was  bred  in  "  the  orful  wicked  ways 
of  the  Pond,"  as  the  Leech  said.  Yet  how  did  I  love  Mr. 
Evelyn  ?  His  letter,  if  it  does  not  recall  me  to  myself, 
does  certainly  recall  all  my  life  to  me.  And  if  1  have  not 
always  answered  all  your  questions,  dear  Anna,  it  was 
because  I  was  more  apt  to  fill  out  my  sheet  with  what  was 
then  on  my  hands,  than  with  what  had  slid  off  into  my 
memory. 

But  I  must  first  settle  certain  preliminaries  as  to  what  a 
woman  is.  You  would  sometimes  seem  to  admonish  me 
lest  I  become  a  partaker  of  a  vague  somewhat  unwomanly. 
Yet  in  theory  I  always  agreed  with  you,  and  our  differences, 
if  there  were  any,  only  contemplated  the  details  of  practice. 
And  here  what  I  have  to  say  is  formed,  not  from  any 
considerable  stress  of  logic,  but  out  of  what  lies  all  around 
me.  To  say  "  We  are  women,"  means  no  more  at  Mons 
Christi,  than  to  say,  "  We  are  men,"  and  just  as  much. 
There  is  the  same  difference,  I  think,  between  a  man  and  a 
woman,  as  between  a  black  birch  and  a  white  one.  The 
character  of  woman  has  risen  a  hundred  fold  in  Livingston, 
yet  are  we  all  women  still.  The  girls  are  not  boys,  neither 


HOW    SHE    LOVED.  273 

are  the  ladies  lords.  We  have  no  Amazons  or  hybirds, 
unless  I  except  the  Goddess  of  Health.  Man  and  woman, 
we  are  both  united  and  elevated  by  the  common  tie  of 
respect  and  esteem,  mutual  deference  and  good  will,  love 
and  honor.  We  are  boys  and  girls,  wives  and  husbands, 
men  and  women  still.  Man  is  less  exclusive  and  despotic, 
woman  is  less  slavish  and  tame.  Our  Festivals,  our 
dances,  the  general  diffusion  of  Christianity  in  town, 
have  had  the  effect  to  abrade  many  prejudices,  correct 
many  diversities,  raise  the  women  in  their  proper  scale,  and 
restore  the  just  order  and  equitable  arrangements  of  society. 
It  seems  after  all  to  be  a  question  of  beards  and  breeches* 
and  since  nature  has  not  furnished  us  the  first,  why  should 
we  be  anxious  to  supply  ourselves  with  the  last  ?  "  Don't 
be  afraid  of  Livingston  !  "  Captain  Tuck  says,  and  in  this 
matter,  so  say  I. 

Now,  being  a  woman,  how  should,  or  how  did  I  love  Mr. 
Evelyn  ?  They  tell  of  two  yew  trees  that  fell  in  love,  but 
being  separated  by  a  large  forest,  couid  not  speak  to  each 
other.  Cherishing  their  love  in  concealment,  they  at 
length  grew  so  tall,  they  could  overlook  the  intervening 
trees ;  they  saw  each  other,  their  love  was  consummated. 
We  did  love,  we  were  separated,  we  at  last  met,  and  our 
love  was  consummated.  But  the  growing  tqll,  how  was 
that  ?  Were  we  prepared  for  a  perfect  love  at  the  first  ? 
Did  we  need  each  other  ?  Were  we  of  proportionate  moral 
stature  ?  Were  there  no  distances  even  in  ourselves 
requiring  that  we  should  first  grow  tall  before  we  could 
overlook  them?  Does  not  one  need  a  certain  amount  of 
self-subsistence,  before  he  or  she  can  subsist  another  ?  We 
are  capable  of  loving,  long  before  we  are  capable  of 
being  loved ;  I  mean  capable  of  supporting  the  love  of 
another.  "  A  solemn  thing  is  love,"  said  Isabel,  when 


274  MARGARET. 

Eufus  offered  her  his  heart.  Mr.  Evelyn,  as  I  recol 
lect,  when  I  first  saw  him,  imparted  to  me  something  of  a 
tremor.  But  what  if  he  had  then  proposed  to  marry  me  ? 
That  would  have  made  me  tremble  worse  and  more  hope- 
'essly.  His  love  for  me  must  first  become  a  subjective 
part  of  my  own  existence,  it  must  grow  up  in  me,  it  must 
mould  me  somewhat  into  his  image  ;  and  so  too  must  mine 
for  him  act  upon  him ;  then  when  we  meet,  our  diversities 
will  have  vanished,  we  shall  be  like  each  other,  we  shall  be 
ready  to  live  together  always.  Perhaps  you  will  say  this 
is  rather  the  record  of  my  own  experience,  than  the  estab 
lishment  of  any  principle  ;  and  what  is  worse,  it  may  indi 
cate  a  very  dull  and  unsavory  process.  I  do  believe  in 
falling  in  love,  spontaneously,  ardently,  as  much  as  Rose 
does,  but  I  do  not  believe  in  falling  into  a  quagmire.  I 
cannot  approve  of  those  marrying  who  have  no  points  in 
common.  I  confess  indeed  to  the  power  of  love  in  dimin 
ishing  differences,  and  uprooting  antipathetic  tendencies. 
But  should  not  their  general  tastes,  sentiments,  views,  feel 
ings,  be  accordant  ?  Let  love  set  the  mill  a-going,  but  how 
can  we  expect  any  good  results  from  cogs  that  never  fit,  or 
from  a  wheel-band  running  on  the  barrel  of  a  watch  ? — 
Yet,  are  we  not  Pythagorean  half-souls  ?  Men  or  women, 
do  we  not  all  need  our  mates  ?  Do  we  not  float  through 
the  world,  like  loose  planets,  till  we  are  caught  in  the 
:  ttraction  of  some  other  orb  ?  I  must  have  3  r.  Evelyn, 
Rose  must  have  Frank,  Rhody  must  have  Nimrod,  Sybil 
Hash,  Isabel  Rufus,  you  Mr.  Watson ;  and  so,  vice  versa. 
This  at  least  is  Rose's  doctrine,  and  I  leave  it  with  her  to 
carry  on  the  discussion. 

Marriage  is  proposed  as  the  cure  of  love ;  "  Get  them 
husbands  betimes,"  says  my  oracle.  We  find  marriage  the 
sustentation  and  enrichment  of  love.  When  did  I  love  Mr. 


HOW    SHE    LOVED.  275 

Evelyn  more  than  to-day?     That  we  have  diversities  is  cer 
tain  ;    but  what  shall  we  do  with  them  ?      Wink  them  out 
of  sight ;   agree   to   disagree ;   bear  with   one    another  in 
silent,  consuming  pain  ?     No.     Let  them  be  thrown  into 
the  common  crucible  of  our  affection,  and  fused  together 
into  some  teritum  quid,  some  new  homogeneous  form.     We 
have  been  married  seven  years.      Twice, — for  they  say  I 
have  an  excellent  memory,  and  I  cannot  very  well  forget 
the  time, — twice  he  has  distressed  me,  agonized  my  heart 
beyond  description ;  I  could  have  died.     I  thought — I  can 
not  tell  what — it  is  past  now.     Only  I  fancied  he  did  not  do 
me  justice — it  was  a  little  thing — it  was  not  that  I  was  a 
woman  and  he  a  man,  for  he  has   never  failed  not  only  to 
love  but  even  to  honor  me.      It  was  two  souls  becoming 
dark  to  each  other,  veiling  their  faces.      We  were  hidden 
only  a  short  time  ;  the  dew  of  sadness  that  was  upon  our 
windows  became  beautiful,  and  then  vanished.      Yet  when 
he  chided  me.  he  loved  me.      You  look  from  a  well-lighted 
room  through  a  window  when  it  is  pitch  dark  abroad,  and 
you  see  your  own  image  out  in  the  darkness.     He  was 
dark,  but  in  his  soul  was  my  image  ;  he  tenderly  cherished 
me,  and  I  had  to  ask  to  be  forgiven.     The  Apostle  prays 
that  we  be  perfect  in  love.     In  love  we  go  on  to  perfection, 
in  perfection  we  go  on  to  love.      "  Are  we  not  illimitable 
and  immortal  only  in   love  ?  "   asks  my  father  of  my  own 
dear   mother.     "  God   dwelleth   in   him   that  dwelleth  in 
love."     He  dwells  in  Mr.  Evelyn  and  me.     His  Shekinah 
is  our  house  and  our  hearts.      Our  trees  and  our  flowers 
grow  larger  and  more  beautiful  every  year ;  so  does  our 
love.      God  is  the  same  forever,  he  never  grows  old,  he  is 
never  common  place  ;   nor  is  our  love  ever  dull,  having  its 
roots  in  the  Infinite.      To  the  eyes  of  love  all  things  are 
new. 


27C  MARGARET. 

I  too  am  a  mother,  so  is  Rose,  so  are  you.  Gottfried 
Briickmann  is  four  years  old,  Jane  Girardeau,  two.  Rose 
has  the  prettiest  little  blossom  you  ever  beheld ;  she  daily 
waxes  more  happy,  more  strong.  How  pleasant  to  multiply 
the  avenues  into  which  the  Divinity  may  pour  itself!  You 
used,  sometimes,  to  raise  questions  about  miracles.  Let  us 
cease  wondering,  and  become  wonder-workers.  The  ways 
of  nature  are  the  true  anagogics.  Gottfried  is  brown  as  a 
nut,  and  I  see  Jeannie  rolling  on  the  grass.  They  are 
hale  and  hearty,  and  do  not  grow  under  a  board  ;  they  eat 
lustily  three  times  a  day,  and  sleep  well  o'nights.  The 
root  called  pie-plant,  just  before  it  shoots  from  the  earth  in 
the  Spring,  is  the  most  beautifully  tinted  thing  you  ever 
beheld.  Remove  the  soil,  and  there  you  have  disclosed  a 
most  exquisite  rose  flesh  color,  deepening  into  the  purest 
carmine,  and  alternating  with  vermilion  and  gold.  Children 
that  germinate  with  plenty  of  mother  earth  about  them, 
come  out  in  the  fairest  hues.  Cloth,  as  Ma  used  to  say,  is  ' 
sometimes  killed  in  coloring  ;  but  those  are  artificial  dyes. 
The  tints  of  nature  betoken  vigor  and  heart. 

Rhody  has  a  son  whom  they  call  Chilion  ;  Isabel  a 
daughter,  Margaret  hight.  Rufus  has  built  an  elegant 
marble  Italian  Villa  on  the  north  eastern  brow  of  Mons 
Christi.  Thus  we  form  an  extensive  community.  I  am 
not  afraid  of  our  children  becoming  contaminated  here. 
Hash  and  Nimrod  are  really  new  men  in  Christ  Jesus. 
You  would  hardly  believe  they  have  daily  prayers  with 
their  households  ;  which  is  nevertheless  the  fact.  The 
Bishop  has  urged  the  duty  of  family  religion,  and  great  is 
the  change  in  this  respect,  in  all  parts  of  the  town.  I  can 
hardly  describe  my  astonishment,  when,  the  other  morning, 
going  into  Pa's,  to  find  that  once  blasphemous,  atheistic  old 
man.  soberly  reading  the  Scriptures  with  Ma,  and  devoutly 


VISIT    TO    THE   POND.  277 

praying !  But  what  shall  become  of  our  children,  in  after- 
times,  and  elsewhere  ?  Livingston  seems  to  us  like  Arran- 
more  to  the  Irish,  where  in  clear  weather  they  fancy  they 
can  see  Paradise.  The  world  is  dark  and  sinful,  and  how 
can  we  adventure  our  children  in  it  ? 

Pa  takes  a  great  liking  to  the  little  ones,  and  they  often 
run  over  there.  The  old  man  is  still  mercurial ;  but  his 
pot-valiantry  is  gone  ;  cold  water  is  his  only  fog-breaker  ; 
for  Anacreontics  he  sings  Christian  hymns.  He  only  wishes 
he  had  two  ears.  Ma  says  Jeannie  looks  like  me.  And  I 
was  a  child  once.  The  other  day  I  rowed  across  the  Pond, 
and  leaped  off  into  the  water  where  I  used  to  bathe  and 
chase  the  sand-pipers.  The  rocks,  the  shadows,  the  vines 
were  there,  and  I  was  there,  in  my  little  canoe.  I  forgot 
the  Universe,  and  my  life,  and  my  children,  to  be  a  child 
once  more.  Presently  Mr.  Evelyn  came,  with  Gottfried 
and  Jane,  and  we  frolicked  in  the  water  together,  and  were 
all  children  as  one.  How  should  a  child  punish  a  child  ? 
I  mean  how  should  I  punish  my  children  ?  Are  parents 
never  in  the  wrong  ?  Are  children  never  in  the  right  ? 
"  Nurses  should  not  have  pins  about  them,"  said  Deacon 
Ramsdill.  Do  not  parents,  by  their  own  pride  and  igno 
rance  often  prick  their  children,  and  then  whip  them  for 
crying  ? 

"  The  bones  of  an  infant,"  says  Dr.  Buchan,  "  are  so  soft 
and  cartilaginous,  that  they  readily  yield  to  the  slightest 
pressure,  and  easily  assume  a  bad  shape.  Hence  it  is  that 
so  many  people  appear  with  high  shoulders,  crooked  spines 
and  flat  breasts,  having  had  the  misfortune  to  be  squeezed 
out  of  shape  by  the  application  of  stays  and  bandages  from 
their  birth."  The  world  abounds  in  what  Comenius  calls 
Deformed  and  Monstrous  people,  in  both  a  physical  and 
moral  aspect ;  all  squeezed  out  of  shape  in  their  infancy. 

VOL.  11.  24 


278  MARGARET. 

Can  you  fail  to  understand  how  men  become  depraved  ? 
"  Laissez  faire,"  says  Mr.  Evelyn.  We  would  encompass 
our  children  by  the  influences  of  the  Good  and  the  Beauti 
ful,  which  is  all  they  can,  primordially,  understand  of  God. 
Let  their  characters  have  an  imperceptible  development, 

like  rose  buds. 

######## 

Mr.  Evelyn  would  make  you  believe  that  I  have  been 
personally  interested  in  this  rejuvenescence  of  the  town;  so 
mote  it  be.  After  all,  it  is  God's  work  ;  we  are  only  his 
subalterns.  You  are  surprised  at  the  result ;  I  am  not. 
There  are  2,304,000  pores  in  the  human  body  ;  so  many 
avenues,  I  might  say,  has  God  to  the  heart ;  and  if  we 
will  but  be  co-workers  with  him,  we  can  find  access  also. 
God  follows,  or  I  should  say,  makes  nature  his  mode  of 
entrance  and  influence  ;  we  have  but  to  go  in  by  the  same 
way,  and  work  after  the  same  pattern.  Not  but  that  there 
have  been  difficulties  ;  but  the  greatest  one,  after  all,  was 
to  find  God's  stand-point  of  Nature.  What  the  people  of 
Livingston  needed,  I  could  but  see  ;  what  they  would  re 
ceive,  may  at  times  have  admitted  of  some  questioning. 
Their  vices  were  not  indeed  peculiar,  they  shared  in  the 
common  backsliding  from  God ;  their  cisterns,  drained  of 
water,  held  only  sediment,  for  which  they  were  ready,  at 
any  moment,  to  do  battle.  I  remembered  the  feeling  that 
prevailed  here  when  I  was  lost  in  the  woods ;  how  good 
every  body  was,  self-sacrificing,  and  self-forgetful ;  I  re 
membered  my  dreams.  There  were  the  many  things 
Deacon  Ramsdill  told  me  ;  there  was  my  experience  with 
the  children  when  I  kept  the  School,  where  I  learned  more 
of  the  infinite  susceptibilities,  wants,  tendencies  of  our  na 
ture,  than  could  in  any  other  way  have  been  presented  to 
me  out  of  myself;  there  was  what  Chilion  told  me  about 


NOT   DONE   BY   MOXEY.  279 

Music  ;  there  was  the  geode  and  its  crystals.  Ever  too 
was  myself,  I  could  but  be  sensible  of  my  own  wants,  and 
what  would  do  me  good.  There  was  the  revelation  of 
Christ  to  me,  by  Mr.  Evelyn.  There  was  the  well  at  No. 
4,  of  which  he  speaks,  clear  water,  a  subterranean  Heaven 
in  that  greasy,  odious  place,  and  along  with  it  Dorothy's 
pink,  that  seemed  to  me  like  another  little  Heaven  in  the 
deep  degradation  of  humanity.  There  was  also  a  strong 
conviction  that  the  sin  which  I  saw  in  the  world  was  unnat 
ural  and  self-destructive,  that  much  of  the  folly  of  men  was 
preposterous  and  remediable.  So  in  many  ways  I  was 
taught  the  will  of  God.  I  know  not  that  I  was  ever  con 
scious  of  any  mission  to  this  people ;  but  after  our  house 
was  done,  I  could  not  be  satisfied  till  something  else  was 
doing.  Our,  or  my,  if  you  please,  first  experiment  was  at 
No.  4,  as  he  has  told  you.  The  effect  was  almost  instanta 
neous  and  quite  magnificent ;  that  the  Scripture  might  be 
fulfilled  where  it  is  written,  "  Though  they  have  lain  among 
pots,  they  shall  become  as  the  wings  of  a  dove  covered 
with  silver,  and  her  feathers  with  yellow  gold." 

I  have  a  fortune  indeed;  and  some  would  fain  make 
themselves  believe  that  we  have  opened  a  battery  of  syste 
matic  bribery,  that  we  have  got  into  the  human  heart,  as 
Philip  did  into  the  Athenian  walled -towns,  by  our  gold. 
You  would  be  surprised  to  know  how  little  we  have 
bestowed  in  a  mere  eleemosynary  manner.  We  gave 
nothing  to  the  No.  4's,  except  what  took  an  ornamental 
form.  Their  solid  comfort  and  prosperity  is  wholly  to  be 
attributed  to  themselves.  It  was  not  largesses  they  needed, 
but  industry,  economy,  temperance  and  love.  We  bought 
them  a  barn,  when  their  hay  and  corn  began  to  increase ; 
but  they  have  since  repurchased  it.  I  gave  Abiah  Tapley 
a  clarionet  and  Isaiah  Batch  a  bugle,  that  they  might  join 


280 


MARGARET. 


our  Band  ;  Dorothy  we  have  educated.  In  the  town  at 
large  we  have  done  little  for  charity ;  our  money  indeed 
has  gone  freely,  but  more  in  ways  aesthetic  and  religious 
than  otherwise.  It  has  aided  in  the  erection  of  a  Church 
Cemetery,  Fountain,  School-house,  remodelling  the  Jail, 
planting  trees,  setting  up  Statues,  etc.,  etc.  To  Judah 
Weeks  we  made  a  loan,  on  an  importation  of  sheep,  cows, 
fruits  and  seeds,  he  was  making  from  England  ;  but  he  has 
repaid  it.  And,  I  believe,  at  this  moment,  I  could  receive 
back  principal  and  interest,  all  I  have  laid  out.  The  pecu 
niary  ability  of  the  people  has  kept  pace  with  their  moral 
excellence.  Land  has  advanced  in  price,  strangers  are 
anxious  to  settle  amongst  us.  The  people  have  expended 
a  good  deal,  and  they  have  made  money.  Abstinence  from 
ardent  spirits,  military  duty,  needless  fashions,  lawsuits, 
have  saved  the  town  ten  thousand  dollars  a  year  ;  so  Judge 
Morgridge  said  at  our  house  the  other  night.  Add  to  this 
the  recovery  from  idle  habits,  negligent  dispositions  and  an 
unproductive  uniformity,  and  you  will  see  our  people  are 
able  to  expend  much  in  other  ways. 

Waste  lands  have  been  redeemed  ;  sundry  improvements 
in  agricultural  and  mechanical  arts  adopted,  whereby  at 
once  is  a  saving,  and  a  profit.  Education,  Literature, 
Religion,  Recreation,  Beauty,  Music,  Art,  Morality  and 
General  Happiness,  are  things  the  people  enjoy,  and  for 
which  they  are  able  to  pay.  They  have  laid  the  founda 
tion  for  a  building  to  serve  a  composite  purpose,  of  Library, 
Museum,  Lecture  Room,  Reading  Room.  The  Natural 
History  of  the  place  some  are  beginning  to  develop  and 
illustrate ;  its  insects,  birds,  fishes,  rocks,  and  flowers. 
Arthur  Morgridge  and  Aurelius  Orff  spent  the  whole  of 
last  year  in  examinations  of  this  sort,  and  their  book  under 
the  superintendence  of  Master  Elliman  will  be  published, 


FJLSHION.  281 

and  two  hundred  copies  will  be  sold  in  Livingston.  Han 
cock  "Welles,  the  Principal  of  the  Grammar  School,  spends 
one  whole  day  in  the  week  with  his  scholars,  studying  the 
world  about  them;  I  mean  the  Livingstonian  world,  of 
wood,  earth  and  water.  Of  our  extraneous  public  taxes 
some  of  the  people  complain  a  little.  Mons  Christi  paid  . 
general  tax  last  year  of  two  thousand  dollars.  Mr.  Evelyn 
says  the  State  has  helped  Livingston  somewhat,  and  if 
Livingston  can  help  the  State  out  of  its  difficulties,  it  will 
be  better  for  all  in  the  end. 

Do  people  speak  of  wealth  ? — Mr.  Evelyn  says  our 
country  expends  for  military  and  warlike  purposes,  in  all 
ways,  at  the  rate  of  80,000,000  dollars  a  year,  for  intoxi 
cating  drinks  50,000,000  more,  and  for  vain  and  hurtful 
customs  enough  to  carry  the  tale  to  200,000,000  !  What 
if  this  sum  could  every  where  be  devoted  to  Christ,  Beauty 
and  Happiness  ;  you  would  cease  to  wonder  at  what  is  done 
in  Livingston. 

What  time,  what  labor,  what  money  is  laid  out  in  the 
great  world  on  what  is  known  as  Fashion  /  Vice  is  ugly, 
and  yet  you  embrace  her ;  if  she  were  beautiful,  that  might 
be  an  excuse  for  your  conduct.  Can  any  thing  exhibit  a 
more  "  hideous  mien ''  than  Fashion  ?  The  French  Mil 
liners  are  a  more  dangerous  foe  to  the  race  than  French 
arms.  Madame  Laponte  threatens  a  worse  evil  than  Na 
poleon.  She  has  actually  invaded  America,  and  thousands 
of  females  have  fallen  victims  to  her  arts.  Your  grand 
mother  said  I  should  certainly  lose  my  symmetry  if  I  that 
not  wear  a  whalebone  corset  like  one  she  showed  me,  and 
would  weigh,  I  should  think,  three  pounds.  Your  friend, 
Mrs.  Modim,  declared  I  should  lose  caste  if  I  did  not  carry 
my  waist  up  over  my  shoulders ;  long  waists,  she  said, 
were  fast  going  out  of  fashion,  or  worn  by  the  vulgar.  Is 
24* 


282  MARGARET. 

it  not,  after  all,  only  a  circular  race  between  Tippee  and 
Twaddle  ?  Tippee  is  now  ahead,  Twaddle  soon  overtakes 
her,  Tippee  falls  behind ;  so  round  and  round  they  go  ; 
which  leads,  or  which  is  beaten,  who  can  tell  ?  Can  that 
be  Beauty  which  lowers  your  corsage  to-day,  and  raises  it 
to-morrow  ;  which  flaunts  a  furbelow  one  year  and  denoun 
ces  it  the  next  ?  Your  ladies  seem  to  me  more  jiggered 
than  dressed  ;  they  are  tasty,  but  not  neat ;  they  struggle 
for  good  keeping,  but  attain  no  harmony  ;  they  are  bespan 
gled  without  ornament,  and  fashionable  without  beauty. 
Mr.  Evelyn  has  a  volume  with  plates  illustrative  of  our 
ancestral  costumes ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that  if  the  Indians 
had  appeared  in  an  attire  which  has  been  the  glory  of 
Christian  belles,  it  would  have  been  set  down  as  the  proper 
accompaniment  of  Barbarism,  and  the  Greeks  in  such 
dresses  would  never  have  advanced  beyond  the  woods  of 
Attica.  One  department  of  our  Museum,  devoted  to  An 
tiquities,  I  recommend  to  have  supplied  with  garments 
showing  the  fashions  of  our  own  and  other  times  ;  a  suita 
ble  relic  to  be  transmitted  to  posterity.  The  Spartans  for 
bade  all  colors  but  purple.  If  we  do  not  restrict  ourselves  to 
that  extent,  we  will  at  least  become  more  moderate.  A  robe, 
a  la  Grecque,  has  been  introduced  into  town,  is  greatly 
admired,  and  somewhat  worn. — Alas  for  the  persons  of 
quality  who  have  wens  on  their  necks  !  You  contrive  to 
hide  this  deformity  by  your  cardinal  hoods.  But  what  will 
you  do  with  the  next  person  of  quality,  who  has  monstrous 
ankles  ?  The  wen  must  then  go  bare !  Our  people  have 
got  the  good  graces  of  the  Quakers  !  four  of  whom  have 
come  to  reside  here,  with  hands  full  of  industry,  and  purses 
full  of  money  ;  and  they  are  interested  members  of  Christ- 
Church. 
We  have  had  the  stanchest  concurrence,  a  munificent 


MUSIC.  283 

sympathy,  and  most  effective  aid.  Names,  which  if  it 
could  be,  I  should  like  to  have  publshed  to  the  world,  are 
blazoned  here  on  Livingston  hills,  and  storied  in  Livingston 
hearts ;  the  Morgridges,  Weekses,  Palmers,  Pottles,  Dor 
othy,  and  a  host  that  are  written  in  the  Lamb's  Book  of 
Life. 

How  has  it  been  done  ?  I  will  tell  you.  Dorothy  Tap- 
ley,  you  know,  lived  with  us.  She  used  frequently  to  be 
in  the  room  when  I  was  playing  the  piano.  She  was  not 
long  in  disclosing  a  deep  musical  aptitude.  I  gave  her 
what  little  instruction  I  could,  and  sent  her  to  your  city  to 
be  perfected.  She  is  now,  as  we  judge,  a  singer  and  player 
of  the  first  order,  and  has  many  pupils  in  town.  Again, 
one  Sunday  there  came  to  our  house,  in  company  with 
many  others,  a  poor,  ragged  boy  from  the  North  Part  of 
the  Town.  Some  of  our  paintings  were  shown  to  him. 
Again  he  came,  and  sat  a  long  while  looking  at  them.  In 
a  few  days,  he  brought  us  some  rude  chalk  imitations  of  a 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  Of  course  we  should  assist  him. 
His  name  is  Elam  Dater ;  Julia  Beach  found  him  wander 
ing  in  the  streets,  took  him  to  Church,  and  had  him  come 
to  Mons  Christi.  He  has  taken  some  portraits,  but  his 
forte  is  Landscape  and  Design.  He  has  furnished  us  sev 
eral  fine  views  of  Livingston,  one  of  Mons  Christi,  as  seen 
from  the  Green,  which  I  mean  to  send  to  you.  He  is  now 
engaged  on  an  original  work,  the  Beatitudes,  to  be  executed 
on  one  piece  of  canvas,  having  Christ  with  the  green  tree- 
cross  in  the  centre,  and  the  several  groups  arranged  about 
him.  It  is  to  be  purchased  by  Christ-Church  members,  and 
put  in  the  Church.  So  genius,  as  well  as  real  estate,  and 
all  good  things,  rise  under  the  influence  of  an  indomitable, 
universal  Christian  Love.  "  When  we  love  God  and  love 
our  fellow-men,"  says-our  Bishop,  "  then  and  only  then  is 


284  MARGARET. 

our  insight  clear,  our  judgment  sound,  our  strength  availa 
ble,  and  our  resolve  steadfast.  Hereby  alone  are  we  filled 
with  Virtue,  inspired  by  Beauty,  and  moved  to  Greatness. 
The  Spirit  of  Christ  in  a  man  does  more  enlarge  the  mind, 
develop  the  capabilities,  animate  the  will,  than  all  other 
things.  In  the  new  Heavens  and  the  new  Earth,  wherein 
dwelleth  Righteousness,  Art,  Poetry,  Painting,  Sculpture, 
taking  new  forms  from  the  divine  life  of  the  soul,  shall 
offer  to  the  world  unexampled  creations,  and  transcendent 
grandeur."  This  is  the  secret  of  what  you  behold  in  Liv 
ingston,  Anna  ;  all  contained  in  a  nutshell. 

Music  I  cherish  for  its  own  sake,  for  my  dear  brother 
Chilion's  sake,  my  dear  dead  father's  sake,  and  for  Christ's 
sake.  Some  of  the  Ancients  did  not  encourage  music,  lest 
it  should  weaken  the  temper  of  the  people.  The  object  of 
most  nations,  Mr.  Evelyn  says,  has  been  to  make  the  citizen 
subservient  to  the  State.  Nor  has  it  been  sufficient  to  en 
slave  his  strength  and  drain  his  products,  they  must  also  pre 
vent  his  proper  moral  growth.  Ability  to  prosecute  war  has 
been  the  test  of  a  healthy  national  condition.  Individuality 
of  character  has  been  construed  into  rebellion,  and  simple 
happiness  stigmatized  as  effeminacy.  To  live  for  the  State 
became  the  chief  end  of  man.  We  discern  a  higher  end, 
the  glory  of  God.  He  made  man  musical ;  Music  is  a 
Divine  gift,  and  God  works  in  it. — The  more  I  reflect  upon 
Chilion,  the  more  am  I  impressed  with  his  greatness.  His 
conceptions,  as  I  see  them  now,  were  magnificent,  and  his 
execution  powerful.  But  he  was  chaotic  and  undeveloped. 
Only  at  the  hour  of  his  death  did  I  understand  the  feelings 
of  his  life.  He  came  out,  like  the  sun,  at  the  close  of  a 
cloudy  day,  glittered,  and  expired.  His  music  always 
thrilled  me,  as  I  have  seen  it  blow  many  about,  like  leaves 
in  the  wind.  His  violin  was  truly  oracular,  Orphean, 


MUSIC.  285 

superhuman.  Through  it,  I  am  sure,  he  would  have  com 
municated  much  of  the  hidden  mystery  of  the  soul.  Re 
served  in  manner,  hesitating  in  speech,  his  instrument 
became  his  confidence,  his  utterance,  his  communicable  self. 
An  Inexplicability  took  him  from  us !  Soul  of  Chilion, 
descend  into  my  soul !  If  tears  were  song,  I  would  sing 
thee  over  the  world ;  when  I  have  ceased  to  weep,  I  only 
pray  there  may  remain  strength  enough  to  sing.  Yet  like 
an  inapproachable  star,  his  light  descends  to  me  from  afar. 
All  Livingston  has  caught  something  of  his  spirit.  There 
were  many,  in  whose  hearts  he  silently  sank,  and  upon 
whom  he  scattered  his  wild  but  divine  musical  seeds. 
Without  speaking,  he  originated  sensations  in  many  a 
breast ;  without  putting  forth  a  hand,  his  designs  have  been 
moulded  into  the  beautiful  forms  of  Art.  Many  pieces 
which  he  played  extemporaneously  and  aboriginally,  I 
remember  ;  Abiah  Tapley  is  able  to  recall  others  ;  so  that 
our  Band  is  in  possession,  not  only  of  his  name  and  ideal, 
but  many  of  his  creations.  He  very  early  taught  me  the 
use  of  the  violin,  and  in  this  way  I  have  been  able  to  retain 
and  distribute  more  of  him  than  I  otherwise  should.  I  did 
not  know  how  good  Chilion's  music  was,  until  I  discovered 
how  much  poor  music  there  is  in  the  world  !  His  frozen 
words  have  thawed,  and  may  be  heard  all  over  our  Town. 
Robert  Bruce,  since  in  his  lifetime  he  could  riot  go  to  the 
Holy  Land,  at  his  death  ordered  his  heart  to  be  embalmed 
and  carried  thither.  Chilion  could  not  come  to  this  our 
Holy  Land,  but  we  have  his  embalmed  melodies. 

Have  you  not  reflected  that  Christ  was  a  singer?  At 
the  Last  Supper,  "  they  sang  a  hymn."  Mr.  Evelyn  says 
he  thinks  it  could  not  have  been,  what  some  suppose,  the 
Hillel  of  the  Jews.  David,  he  says,  could  not  compose  a 
song  for  Christ.  I  think  it  was  an  extemporaneous  swan- 


286  MARGARET. 

song  of  Jesus.  His  voice  itself,  as  I  have  heard  it,  is 
pure  music.  Are  not  the  Beatitudes  the  highest  kind  of 
Poetry  ?  Or  I  should  say,  I  do  not  think  the  highest  kind 
of  Inspiration  to  be  Poetry,  I  mean  at  least  it  is  not  rhyme. 
In  many  of  Christ's  words  are  harmony  and  softness, 
mellifluence  and  music.  The  Gospels  seein  to  me  truth 
melodized.  The  best  parts  of  the  New  Testament  have 
never  been  thrown  into  a  lyric  form  ;  even  by  those  whose 
profession  was  scripture  versification.  Master  Elliman  has 
a  copy  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  and  I  had  as  lief  use  it 
as  Watts;  notwithstanding  the  great  distance  between 
them.  Your  Mr.  Belknap  is  better,  but  he  falls  sadly 
below  the  true  Gospel  Idea.  The  Gospel,  if  it  were  under 
stood,  if  with  warm  hearts  they  <l  scended  into  the  depths 
of  its  spirit,  our  Poets,  I  am  certain,  could  turn  into  rhyme 
and  beauty.  Mr.  Evelyn's  volume,  prepared  for  Christ- 
Church,  we  like  very  much. — Nature  is  musical,  and  God  in 
Nature  ;  the  stars,  the  brooks  ;  so  must  all  things  become, 
Religion,  Life,  Society,  Intercourse,  Labor,  Politics,  Con 
troversy,  Reform ;  so  speaks  my  sprite.  "  My  Peace  I 
leave  with  you,"  said  Jesus.  The  Peace  of  Jesus  would 
be  the  music  of  the  world. 

Beauty  also  has  its  own  end  and  office.  Beauty  is 
musical,  music  is  beautiful.  God  made  the  trees  of  the 
garden  of  Eden  good  to  look  upon,  that  is,  beautiful. 
Beauty  is  Truth's  usher,  whereby  it  is  introduced  to  the 
heart.  No  truth  is  received  till  it  puts  on  a  beautiful  aspect. 
The  mind  even  seems  to  have  the  power  of  exorcising 
Falsehood,  expelling  from  it  the  spirit  of  Ugliness,  and 
transfusing  it  with  that  oT  Beauty.  People  tell  me  they 
never  used  to  make  up  their  minds  to  believe  Theological 
errors  until  they  were  first  presented  in  a  beautiful  form. 
The  widow  Luce  says  she  was  first  made  to  see  some  beauty 


BEAUTY.  287 

in  the  doctrine  of  Reprobation,  before  she  assented  to  it ! 
The  old  Prophets  had  ideas  of  beauty  that  we  have  lost 
sight  of.  "  The  Beauty  of  the  Lord  our  God  be  upon  us," 
says  David.  Then  in  the  New  Testament,  Christ  is  called 
the  Beautiful  Shepherd  ;  of  the  woman  who  anointed  him 
he  says,  "  She  hath  wrought  a  Beautiful  work  on  me." 
St.  Paul  says,  "  Provide  things  Beautiful  in  the  sight  of  all 
men."  This  secret  sentiment  of  high  moral  Beauty, 
a  Beautiful  Goodness,  runs  through  the  Gospels.  God  is 
Beautiful,  and  Christ  has  ever  seemed  to  me  the  Beautiful 
One,  beyond  all  created  description  or  compare.  His 
Beautiful  Goodness  won  my  unconscious  child's  heart,  and 
when  I  knew  it  not,  made  me  its  own ;  and  as  it  were 
when  I  was  asleep,  impressed  its  image  upon  me,  which  re 
appeared  when  I  awoke,  and  still  rises  with  my  higher  ex 
istence  of  thought,  and  shall  live  with  me  forever. 

The  power  of  Beauty  over  what  is  known  as  the  common 
mind,  our  house  and  grounds,  our  statuary  and  paintings 
furnish  instances  of,  every  day.  "  This  is  a  beautiful  spot," 
people  say,  when  they  come  to  Mons  Christi.  I  remember 
overhearing  old  Mr.  Shocks,  the  former  Jail  keeper,  the 
flintiest,  dryest,  Grossest  man  I  ever  saw,  make  that  excla 
mation  ;  and  he  really  looked  pleased  when  he  said  it.  His 
heart  was  touched.  Innocent  gladness  is  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  things  under  the  sun  ;  it  is  the  roses  and  pansies 
of  humanity.  Pa's  gay  humor,  wicked  though  he  was, 
always  impressed  me  as  something  beautiful. 

How  shall  we  account  for  this  effect  of  Beauty  ?  I  know 
of  no  better  way  than  that  given  by  my  Author.  "  It  gets 
in  at  our  eyes,  pores,  nostrils ;  engenders  the  same  qualities 
and  affections  in  us  as  were  in  the  party  whence  it  came. 
The  rays  sent  from  the  object  carry  certain  spiritual  vapors 
with  them,  and  so  infect  the  observer.  Our  spirits  are  in- 


288  MARGARET. 

wardly  moved  by  the  subtle  influence."  In  this  connection, 
Anna,  read  that  what  I  shall  call  stupendous  passage  of  St. 
Paul,  where  speaking  of  Christ,  he  says,  "  Whom  behold 
ing,  we  are  changed  into  the  same  image,  from  glory  to 
glory."  If  we  only  beheld  Christ  as  we  should,  we  should 
be  transformed  into  his  Divinest  Beauty ;  there  would  be 
engendered  in  us  the  same  qualities  and  affections  as  are 
in  him. 

Mr.  Evelyn  says,  Christ  is  not  preached  as  any  complete 
whole,  soul  and  body ;  not  as  a  full-orb,  deeply  capacious 
personal  being ;  but  only  as  one  who,  in  a  certain  moment, 
did  something,  as  one  who,  at  the  end  of  his  life,  died  to 
execute  a  certain  intention  of  God.  Hence  nobody  is 
changed  into  the  real  image  of  Christ,  but  all  are  casting 
about  to  satisfy  themselves  as  to  the  application  of  that 
single  executive  stroke  of  his.  So  many  paintings  of  a 
merely  dead  Christ  I  do  not  fancy.  That  by  Giotto,  from 
which  it  is  said  mo:4  of  the  famous  paintings  in  Europe 
are  obtained,  originated  thus  ;  the  artist  hired  a  man  to 
hang  an  hour  on  the  cross,  and  at  the  expiration  of  the 
time,  instead  of  relieving  him,  stabbed  him  dead,  and  then 
fell  to  drawing!  Are  we  not  more  saved  by  a  living,  than 
a  dead  Christ  ?  Is  there  nothing  in  a  living  Christ  for  a 
painter  to  draw  from,  and  a  Christian  too  ? 

Beauty,  God's  creation,  is  sinless  and  pure  ;  and  it  helps 
to  make  us  good.  In  1529,  when  the  soldiery  took  Flor 
ence,  and  entered  a  monastery  for  purposes  of  pillage, 
where  was  a  picture  of  the  Last  Supper  by  Andrea,  they 
were  so  struck  with  it,  they  retired  without  committing  any 
violence.  Such  is  the  power  of  a  living  Christ,  such  is 
the  power  of  simple  Beauty  ! 

The  matter  of  Philosophy  I  shall  leave  wholly  with  Mr. 
Evelyn.  I  think  when  we  are  Philosophers  we  shall  have 


RECREATION.  289 

Philosophy.     Or  if  as  he  says,  I  am  Philosophy,  it  is  be 
cause  I  am  myself.     Not  being  what  we  should  be,  our 
speculations  are  buffoonery.      Could  we   understand  the 
Philosophy  of  a  single  moment  or  atom,  we  should  under 
stand  the  Philosophy  of  Infinity.      "  Who  by  searching 
can  find  out  God  ?  "     Could  I  understand  God  in  the  struc 
ture  of  a  head  of  fox-tail  grass,  I  should  know  more  than 
all  theosophists.     Let  me  fall  back  and  work  the  work  of 
Nature,  so  shall  I  work  the  work  of  God,  and  be  above 
all  schools.     Mr.  Evelyn  says  the  Germans  will  presently 
surprise  the  age  with  the  novelty  of  their  views  and  gran 
deur  of  their  speculations.      What  avails  speculation  in 
this  slouched,  vagabondish  world  ?     Eternity  is  made  up  of 
moments,  let  me  live  the  present  moment  well,  and  I  shall 
live  forever  well.     Immensity  is  composed  of  square  rods, 
let  me  tread  well  where  I  now  stand,  and  I  shall  always 
have  a  good  foothold.     Christ  was  a  true  Philosopher,  let 
me  be  a  Christian.    Mr.  Evelyn  says  I  act  philosophically ; 
I  am  only  conscious  of  acting  according  to  my  nature.     I 
confess  I  am  much  less  uneasy  than  I  used  to  be ;  I  am 
quite  a  convert  to  the  Master,  and  as  he  once  told  me, 
like  a  cow  I  have  learned  to  eat  my  grass  quietly  and 
thankfully,  asking  no  questions.    *  God,"  says  Job,  "  giveth 
not  account  of  any  of  his  matters."     Be  He  monotheistic 
or  pantheistic,  as  some  dispute,  my  duty  is  one,  to  live  well. 
God  is  and  I  am,  God  lives  and  I  live,   God  works  and  I 
work,  in  God  I  shall  be ;  with  this  I  am  satisfied.     A  Uni, 
verse  of  beauty,  love,  joy  and  truth  are  before  me,  let  me 
press  on.     So  at  least  I  feel  to-day,  and  the  morrow  shall 
take  care  for  the  things  of  itself. 

Another  distinct  and  stringent  law  of  God  and  Nature  is 
recreation.  Of  the  many  kinds  afloat,  we  have  been  obliged 
to  use  care  in  our  choice.  What  would  Christ  approve  ? 

VOL.  IT.  25 


290  1TARGARET. 

what  is  best  ?  we  ask.  In  what  can  all  ages  and  conditions 
unite?  What  relaxes  without  weakening,  is  cheerful  with 
out  frivolity,  and  offers  attractions  without  danger  ?  Not 
to  the  exclusion  of  other  things,  our  election  has  fallen 
on  the  Dance,  a  species  of  recreation  enjoined  in  the  Old 
Testament,  and  recognized  in  the  New  ;  one  practised  in 
every  age  and  country,  and  recommended  by  the  sanction 
of  the  best  and  greatest  of  men.  All  these  things  our 
people  were  soberly  pondering,  while  I  had  got  my  lesson 
years  ago.  It  has  Music  and  Beauty  for  its  garniture  and 
strength.  Its  intrinsic  value  has  won  for  it  the  approval  of 
almost  every  body.  It  is  enjoyed  in  all  families  ;  parents 
and  children,  husbands  and  wives  dance  together.  It  has 
supplanted  many  ridiculous  games,  and  extirpated  cruel 
sports.  It  has  broken  up  drunken  carousals  and  neutral 
ized  the  temptation  to  ardent  spirits.  Having  once 
entered  upon  it,  we  become  straightway  sensible  of  its 
advantages.  Whatever  grace  is  needed  in  person,  or 
courtesy  in  manners,  it  operates  to  perfect.  And  surely, 
as  my  authority  observes,  "it  is  pleasant  to  see  those  pretty 
knots  and  swimming  figures."  It  brings  the  people  together, 
interests  strangers,  and  diffuses  a  serene,  whole-souled 
harmony  over  the  town.  It  has  no  boisterousness,  and 
much  life.  It  embodies  the  recreative  element  in  the 
healthiest  and  holiest  forms.  Where  all  unite,  there  is  no 
excess.  We  praise  God  in  the  dances  ;  it  is  a  hymn  written 
with  our  feet.  I  would  dance  as  I  would  pray,  for  its  own 
sake,  and  because  it  is  well-pleasing  to  God.  Fenelon, 
when  one  of  his  curates  complained  to  him  that  his 
parishioners  would  dance  after  their  religious  services, 
replied,  "Let  us  leave  those  poor  people  to  dance;  their 
hours  of  happiness  are  not  too  numerous."  This  was  kind 
of  the  good  Fenelon,  but  it  indicates  a  bad  state  of  society 


POLITICIANS.  291 

when  the  greater  part  of  life  is  a  drudgery.  We  are 
happy  when  we  are  at  work,  when  we  pray,  as  well  as 
when  we  dance. 

We  are  great  politicians,  so  at  least  President  Jefferson 
said.  You  will  be  amused.  We  were  visited  successively 
by  both  the  Presidents,  Mr.  Adams  and  Mr.  Jefferson. 
Mr.  Adams's  forte,  Mr.  Evelyn  says,  is  the  science  of 
government,  on  which  topic  he  has  written  a  book.  Of 
course  he  and  Mr.  Evelyn  fell  to  talking  politics.  Said 
lie,  "  I  have  perused  the  history  of  every  monarchy  and 
republic,  the  records  of  which  have  descended  to  our  times. 
Salonina,  the  most  virtuous  and  distinguished  empress  that 
ever  adorned  a  Roman  throne,  promised  the  Philosopher 
Plotinus,  that  she  would  rebuild  a  decayed  city  of  Cam 
pania  and  appoint  him  over  it,  that  he  might  experimentally 
know,  while  presiding  over  a  colony  of  philosophers,  the 
validity  and  use  of  the  ideal  laws  of  the  republic  of  Plato. 
The  history  of  that  republic  I  have  never  seen,  until  through 
the  hospitality  which  has  invited  me  to  your  house  and  the 
attention  that  has  taken  me  over  your  town,  I  seem  to  be 
all  at  once  transported  into  the  bosom  of  it  /  "  President 
Jefferson  has  the  reputation  of  being  less  of  a  theorist,  and 
more  acquainted  with  men  as  they  are.  Said  he,  "  You 
are  the  very  best  politicians  in  the  land ;  I  wish  the 
country  was  full  of  such.  You  have  freedom,  competency, 
virtue.  I  had  rather  be  Mrs.  Evelyn  than  William  Pitt. 
Don't  you  blench,  though  all  danger  menaces  you.  The 
Government  shall  not  molest  you  ;  the  nation  is  honored 
by  having  within  its  borders  the  town  of  Livingston  !" 

"Courage!"  said  Diogenes  to  a  young  man  whom  he 
saw  blushing.  "That  is  the  color  of  virtue."  One  needed 
courage  to  face  this  battery  of  applause.  Epaminondas, 
the  day  after  his  victory  at  Leuctra,  came  abroad  in 


292  MARGARET. 

squalid  attire,  and  with  an  abject  look,  giving  as  a  reason 
that  he  was  overmuch  joyed  the  day  before.  I  do  not 
understand  that  we  need  to  put  on  sackcloth  and  ashes 
because  men  are  pleased  with  God's  doings,  nor  behave 
like  a  certain  artist,  somewhat  whimsical  he  was,  who,  when 
one  praised  a  statue  he  was  making,  smote  it  with  his  ham 
mer  and  dashed  it  in  pieces. 

I  recollect,  when  I  was  keeping  school,  overhearing  at 
Esq.  Beach's  one  evening  a  sort  of  grave  snip-snap  about 
Napoleon's  return  from  Egypt,  Russia  seceding  from  the 
Coalition,  Tom  Jefferson  becoming  President,  and  what  not. 
There  were  Esq.  Beach  on  one  side,  Esq.  Weeks  on  the 
other,  and  Esq.  Bowker,  a  sort  of  third  party  man.  Indeed 
you  would  have  thought  a  new  geological  cataclysm  was  at 
hand,  and  we  were  about  to  be  submerged  in  some  diplo 
matic  ocean,  or  swallowed  by  some  Megalosaurian  man. 
These  men  are  all  on  one  side  now,  that  of  Christ  and 
Love.  Our  people  have  lost  all  fear  of  England  or 
France,  and  Mr.  Jefferson  has  at  heart,  I  think,  some  of  the 
noblest  purposes  that  ever  filled  a  human  breast.  If  the 
great  Suwarrow  comes  amongst  us  and  behaves  discreetly, 
he  shall  be  welcome  ;  but  if  he  goes  to  playing  his  pranks, 
we  shall  have  to  open  our  meal-bags  upon  him. 

These  Megalosaurian  Men,  O  Anna !  But  in  the  New 
Earth  now  in  process  of  creation,  we  shall  dig  for  their 
remains,  as  we  do  for  other  fossils,  and  wonder,  not  how 
they  got  in  there,  but  how  they  could  have  subsisted.  We 
do  not  lean  on  an  arm  of  flesh  whereby  we  are  cursed,  but 
on  that  of  God ;  and  what  saith  the  Prophet  ?  "  Blessed 
is  the  man  that  trusteth  in  the  Lord ;  he  shall  be  as  a  tree 
planted  by  the  waters,  and  that  spreadeth  out  her  roots  by 
the  river,  and  shall  see  when  heat  corneth,  but  her  leaf 
shall  be  green.'*  "  Who  is  he  that  will  harm  you,  if  ye  be 


UNITY    AND    TARIETT.  293 

followers  of  that  which  is  good  ? "  is  the  question  of 
Christianity.  "  Fear  not,  little  flock,  it  is  your  Father's 
good  pleasure  to  give  you  the  kingdom,"  are  the  words  of 
Christ.  What  Atheistic,  Anti-Christian  fear  pervades 
Church  and  State  !  How  much  men  pay,  and  do,  to  dem 
onstrate  their  infidelity. 

I  am  writing  a  long,  long  letter.  Like  Elihu,  the  son  of 
Barachel,  the  Buzite,  I  could  have  answered  and  said,  "  I 
am  young,  and  ye  are  very  old,  wherefore  I  was  afraid  and 
durst  not  show  you  mine  opinion.  But  great  men  are  not 
always  wise.  Therefore  I  said,  Hearken  to  me.  I  am  full 
of  matter.  I  am  ready  to  burst  like  new  bottles.  I  will 
speak,  that  I  may  be  refreshed."  I  am  sensible,  Anna, 
that  I  have  not  told  you  every  thing  that  your  interest 
relates  to,  and  Mr.  Evelyn  urges  me  on  to  give  you  my 
views  and  notions. 

There  are  individual  histories  in  town,  each  in  itself 
sufficient  to  make  a  book.  We  read  accounts  of  conver 
sions  ;  I  could  recite  you  some  here  equal  to  any  you  ever 
heard  of.  When  the  Lives  of  our  Saints  and  the  E^ploit^ 
of  our  Champions  shall  be  published,  it  will  make  a  volunofe 
superior  to  any  that  has  issued  from  the  press  for  a  year  or 
two.  I  wish  you  could  hear  what  is  rehearsed  at  our  house 
every  week,  of  battles  won  on  the  field  of  Evil,  of  tempta 
tions  endured  from  the  world ;  the  poor  becoming  rich  in 
grace ;  the  bespotted  finding  their  way  up  to  virtue ;  the 
fearful  overcoming  their  dread ;  the  persecuted  blessing 
their  enemies ;  the  proud  humbling  themselves,  and  such 
things.  There  is  a  long  story  of  Elam  Dater ;  there  is 
Miss  Arunah  Shocks  encountering  inward  foes,  such  as 
might  have  intimidated  St.  George  himself;  there  are  the 
trials  of  Hiram  Ravel,  in  the  North  Part  of  the  Town,  that 
would  embellish  a  Book  of  Martyrs ;  there  is  the  convic- 
25* 


294  MARGARET. 

tion  and  conversion  of  John  Weeks,  reminding  you  of 
George  Fox ;  there  are  Isabel,  Dorothy,  Triandaphelda 
Ada  Hadlock,  Sylvina  Pottle,  and  others,  whose  biogra 
phies  ought  to  be  written.  But  I  leave  them  for  the 
present. 

We  are  a  united  but  not  an  identical  population,  Mr. 
Evelyn  wishes  me  to  tell  you.  Striped  grass  planted  with 
other  species,  becomes  of  one  color,  an  uniform  green. — 
For  one,  I  wish  to  see  no  such  loss  of  individuality  and 
absorption  in  the  aggregate.  Let  each  spear  retain  its  own 
lines,  each  man  his  own  qualities,  and  why,  as  Deacon 
Ramsdill  says,  can  they  not  all  live  happily  and  perfectly 
together  in  the  same  field,  the  same  town  ?  I  do  not  wish 
the  people  all  to  do  as  we  do,  only  I  do  wish  to  see  them 
Beautiful,  True,  Happy,  Christian.  The  town  is  eight 
miles  long  by  six  broad ;  it  contains  two  hundred  farms, 
three  stores,  two  taverns,  one  Church,  six  school-houses, 
three  or  four  joiners'  shops,  a  tannery,  fulling-mill,  grist 
mill,  blacksmith  shops,  et  cetera.  A  right  spirit  prevails 
with  the  major  part  of  the  inhabitants  ;  that  is  our  identity. 
Each  one  eats  his  own  meals,  maintains  his  own  family, 
follows  his  own  calling,  thinks  his  own  thoughts,  dies  his 
own  death  ;  in  this  we  are  separated.  Unity  in  variety  is  a 
good  motto.  There  are  many  common  interests,  our 
Church,  our  Festivals,  Roads,  Cemetery,  Dances,  Library, 
Schools,  Music,  Art,  Love,  Christ,  Nature,  God.  The  in 
habitants  of  ancient  Cuma,  were  reputed  stupid  by  their 
neighbors ;  but  it  was  found  they  owed  this  character  to 
their  virtues.  We  are  indifferent  to  some  things  that  en 
gage  and  distract  the  world.  But  there  is  life,  spirit  and  en 
terprise  among  the  people.  Sour  rivalries,  envious  associ 
ation,  jostling  activities,  are  not.  To  perfect  ourselves,  our  in 
stitutions,  our  Town,  is  a  life-work.  If  there  arises  a  dispute 


UNITY   AND    VARIETY.  295 

there  are  trusty  people  to  whom  we  are  glad  to  refer  the 
matter.  Nor  can  any  one  take  advantage  of  our  confidence. 
The  spirit  of  Christ  is  lynx-eyed ;  or  as  our  Bishop  says, 
it  penetrates  the  secret  things  of  darkness,  unmasks  the 
hypocrite,  and  reads  the  heart  of  the  designing.  "  If  we 
should  all  become  good,"  you  said,  "  there  would  nothing 
remain  whereby  to  keep  philanthropy  and  benevolence 
alive."  Love,  like  jeolousy,  grows  with  that  it  feeds  on ; 
thrives  on  itself.  Like  plants,  the  fruits  of  the  Spirit 
mature  best  in  a  soil  where  the  elements  are  analogous. 
Virtue  grows  on  God,  as  the  misletoe  on  oaks.  Does  God 
ever  decay  ? 

Need  1  say  any  thing  more  of  myself,  or  of  my  connec 
tion  with  these  things  ?  Can  a  bee  tell  how  it  builds  its 
comb  ?  Other  people  might  give  you  a  more  satisfactory 
account,  but  to  me  it  seems  to  have  grown  up  as  corn  grows. 
Judge  Morgridge  is  about  publishing  a  little  history  of  our 
affairs,  which  1  recommend  to  your  friends.  The  leaves 
of  the  five-finger  draw  together  to  shelter  the  flower  when 
it  rains,  and  open  when  the  sun  comes  out.  So  have  I 
done  to  my  plans ;  can  I  tell  how  ?  The  Widow  Wright 
taught  me  Utility ;  "  Not  looks,  it's  use,  child,"  was  her 
maxim.  The  hang  bird  taught  me  Caution.  Mother 
Goose's  Melodies  taught  me  not  to  cry  when  I  could  not 
help  a  thing.  But  more  than  this,  if  we  could  but  see  it, 
there  is  a  waiting  for  Goodness  and  Truth  in  all  souls. 
"  In  every  bone  there  is  a  marrow,  and  beneath  every 
jacket  lives  a  man,"  says  the  Arab  proverb.  Then  through 
the  world  wanders  the  spirit  of  love,  though  she  be  no  more 
than  the  chipping  bird  that  builds  a  nest  in  the  rose-bush, 
or  a  butterfly  that  shimmers  over  a  dirty  pool. 

Did  I  have  dreams  which  others  enjoyed  not  ?  Were 
they  mature  and  finished  even  beyond  my  experience? 


296  MARGARET. 

In  this  also  is  not  the  Scripture  fulfilled?  "  In  a  dream  he 
openeth  the  ears  of  men,  and  sealeth  their  instruction." 
Did  Christ  himself  come  very  near  to  me  and  speak  with 
me  ?  As  the  disciples  after  Christ's  death  understood  many 
sayings  of  their  Master  that  were  hidden  before,  so  have  I 
in  latter  years  come  to  understand  the  deep  meanings  of 
Christ  to  me.  I  must  live  his  childhood's  life;  I  must 
grow  up  in  his  image  ;  "  his  life  must  be  made  manifest 
in  my  mortal  body,"  as  St.  Paul  has  it.  When  I  came  to 
compare  the  inward  Christ  of  my  soul  with  the  historical 
Christ,  whom  Mr.  Evelyn  made  known  to  me,  they  flowed 
together  and  mingled  in  one. 

I  had  dreams  too  of  Beauty  and  Art,  a  Classical  Magi 
cian  waved  over  me  his  wand.  Could  I  see  the  chain  that 
binds  together  Christianity,  ^Esthetics,  Heroism !  But  in 
me  they  are  one,  in  the  world  they  are  at  odds.  I  could 
not  rest  till  these  things  went  forth  in  forms  and  life.  In 
purity  and  love  have  we  genius  ;  the  Gospel  gives  beauty 
to  the  eye,  and  holiness  to  the  soul.  Our  Cross,  not  like 
Constantine's  which  he  bore  at  the  head  of  his  armies, 
blossoms  as  the  rose,  and  heals  up  the  ravages  of  war. 
Our  Oriflamb  of  silver  whiteness  is  such  as  the  Apostle 
John  might  have  unfurled  when  he  started  on  his  mission 
of  love.  I  am  dealing  with  great  subjects  and  such  as  are 
quite  beyond  my  depth.  I  admire  old  Atlas,  but  I  have 
neither  his  thews  nor  his  good  nature,  I  cannot  bear  up  the 
world.  I  remember  when  Hash  was  driving  a  cart  up  a 
hill,  I  used  to  trig  the  wheels  for  him.  If  any  Demiurgic 
Teamster  is  disposed  to  drive  the  Cart  of  Peace  and  Good 
Will  over  the  Earth,  I  stand  ready  to  trig  the  wheels  in  all 
the  steep  places  ;  beyond  this  I  cannot  do.  My  hand  aches 
with  writing,  as  your  eyes  must  with  reading.  Wait  till  1 


LIVINGSTON    BEAUTIFUL.  297 

return — Rose  is  at  the  door  on  horseback ;  we  are  going  to 

take  a  ride. 

******** 

We  went  full  four  miles  to  the  North  Part,  and  carried 
supplies  to  a  poor  sick  family  there.     How  beautiful  is  our 
town!     No  European  village  that  I  have  heard  of,   no 
American  village  that  I  have  seen,  is  so  beautiful.     Here 
are   views   that   would,  I  will   engage,   match  you  with 
Greenwich  Tower,  or  St.  Mark's  Steeple  in  Venice  ; — the 
Green  with  its  majestic  rim  of  elms,  thanks  to  our  fore 
fathers,  and  its  central  star,  the  Fountain ;    the  Cemetery 
with  its  white  monuments  under  the  green  trees;  the  River 
beyond  the  Village,  the  fine  houses  on  Grove  Street ;  Aunt 
Wiswall's,  whose  house  and  ornamental  grounds  cover  the 
burnt  forest;  Col.  Welch's,  Mons  Christi,  our  house,  Rufus's 
tasteful  seat,  and  above  all,  the  Cross.     That  Cross,  seen  at 
sunset  among  the  gorgeous  clouds,  is  superb.      Rose,  who 
used  to  be  afraid  of  thunder-storms,  says  she  looks  to  that 
and  grows  quiet.      In  all  the  streets,  and  many  of  the  by 
ways  are  ornamental  trees,  elms,  maples,  and  others  ;    the 
houses  of  the  town   are  painted  in  various  pretty  colors. 
You  meet  such  happy,  loving  faces,  and  such  merry  groups 
of  children;    the   old  people  seem   so  warm-hearted  and 
benevolent ;    the  young  men    and  women   are   easy  and 
polite.      Esqs.  Beach  and  Bowker  we  met ;  they  had  been 
arbitrating  on  a  case.     This  is  now  their  principal  business, 
and  they  get  ample  pay  for  it.     Even  people  come  in  from 
other  towns  and  great  distances  to  employ  them.   They  say 
they  can  trust  Livingston  lawyers  !      Mr.  Adolphus  Had- 
lock  also  we  saw.       He  has  twice  sold  out  and  moved  from 
town,  and   twice  returned.     No   poor   man  was   ever  so 
frightened.     But  the  conversion  of  his  Triandaphelda  Ada 
and  the  marriage  of  his  son  Socrates  to  Dorothy,  seem  to 


298  MARGARET. 

have  reconciled  him ;  and  he  walks  the  streets  now  more 
li1  e  a  man  than  that  "Aunt  Dolphy."  The  Jail,  in  which 
are  only  two  persons,  is  tenanted  by  a  man  with  his 
family,  who  was  originally  confined  for  murder  ;  he  was 
converted  through  the  instrumentality  of  the  Bishop,  par 
doned  by  the  Governor,  and  now  keeps  an  agricultural 
seed  and  implement  store.  Old  Alexis  Robinson,  who 
became  wholly  insane,  and  was  confined  in  the  old  Jail,  has 
recovered  his  senses,  and  is  supported  handsomely  by  the 
town,  and  has  a  room  in  the  new  prison,  dwelling-house,  or 
whatever  it  be.  Master  Elliman  has  dubbed  Livingston 
L.L.D.,  Laudabilis  Locus  Domini., 

Holy  and  delightsome  is  the  Barth !  God  saw  that 
every  thing  he  had  made  was  very  good.  I  bless  God  for 
the  dandelions  that  bestar  the  green  grass  ;  I  bless  him  for 
the  song-sparrow  that  sings  out  against  my  window  ;  I 
bless  him  for  the  little  Jane  Girardeau  that  is  here  playing 
with  the  kitten.  What  an  ecstasy  were  the  golden  fires 
kindled  as  the  Sun  went  down  last  night,  and  the  polished 
silver  dawn  I  saw  at  four  o'clock  this  morning,  set  with  the 
Mohmaraedan's  sign  of  worship,  the  crescent  Moon.  The 
Spring,  the  Summer,  the  Autumn,  the  Winter,  do  feast  and 
ravish  me.  Not  the  anagogical  Hebrew  Oil,  compounded 
of  stacte,  onycha,  galbanum,  had  so  sweet  a  perfume  as  that 
with  which  I  am  daily  anointed,  and  which  maketh  my 
face  to  shine  in  innumerable  flowers  that  fill  the  woods  and 
ways  all  the  season  through.  The  best  prayer  I  can  offer 
is  to  use  all  things  well ;  my  highest  gratitude,  enjoyment. 
Sin,  I  cannot.  All  things  are  incense  to  me, — the  brooks, 
the  fogs,  the  clouds,  the  sky ;  I  will  be  incense  to  God  ; 
like  my  dear  Redeemer,  a  sweet  smelling  savor.  Into  me 
the  Universe  flows,  from  me  it  turns  back  to  its  Maker. 
If  I  cannot  tell  the  cause  of  the  flux  and  reflux,  like  Aris- 


THE    GALLOWS.  299 

totle  on  the  banks  of  the  Euripus,  I  will  not  get  angry  and 
die. 

How  singularly  are  we  situated  !  On  one  side  you 
approach  Mons  Christi,  by  the  Delectable  Way,  on  another, 
by  the  Via  SaJutaris  ;  the  Eastern  Avenue  is  the  Via  Dol- 
orosa  ;  across  the  place  runs  the  Brook  Kedron  !  Names 
taken  up  in  stark  caprice  have  become  animated  with  the 
deepest  significance.  Our  Bishop  had  told  the  people 
there  was  a  street  in  Jerusalem  called  the  Via  Dolorosa, 
through  which  Christ  is  said  to  have  borne  his  Cross  to 
Calvary.  One  Sunday  Miss  Arunah  Shooks,  deeply  im 
pressed  with  a  sense  of  her  sinfulness,  as  she  said,  in  hav 
ing  so  often  offended  Christ  and  broken  the  laws  of  the 
Gospel,  came  up  that  way,  alone  ;  she  said  she  wanted  to 
bear  her  cross  to  Mons  Christi.  And  what  do  you  think 
that  cross  was  ?  This,  she  said,  that  she  treated  me  so 
rudely  when  I  went  to  see  Chilion  in  the  Jail,  and  she 
wanted  to  come  and  ask  my  forgiveness.  She  said  she  had 
long  struggled  with  her  convictions,  but  after  the  confes 
sion,  she  felt  a  load  drop  off.  Livingston  itself — a  name 
derived  from  a  respectable  American  family — the  Living 
Stone,  disallowed,  it  may  be,  of  men,  but  chosen  of  God 
and  precious  ;  the  Stone  cut  out  of  a  mountain  without 
hands — may  it  at  least  become  a  Mountain  great  enough  to 
fill  its  own  place  in  the  Earth  ! 

I  did  not  tell  you  that  my  old  friend  Ben  Bolter  is  here. 
One  of  his  legs  was  shot  off  by  the  Tripolitans  ;  he  has 
made  a  full-rigged  miniature  schooner  for  Gottfried,  and 
they  sail  together  on  the  Pond.  My  boy  may  become  a 
sailor,  after  all.  Ben  Bolter  exhibits  gratifying  tokens  of 
a  renewed  mind. 

In  the  North  part  of  the  town,  on  the  very  spot  where 
the  Gallowe  stood,  and  Chilion  wag  hung,  has  been 


300  MARGARET. 

erected  a  monumental  piece,  representing  Moses  kneeling 
to  Christ  and  surrendering  the  Book  of  the  Hebrew  Code  ; 
Christ  appears  as  it  were  closing  the  Book  with  his  foot — 
the  action  being  partially  veiled  by  drapery.  It  is  exquis- 
itly  done  ;  Art  is  satisfied,  Justice  acquiesces,  Humanity 
triumphs. 

We  have  a  Library  indeed,  but  how  few  good  books !  Is  it 
a  dream ;  or  has  some  one  said  it,  or  will  some  one  say  it, 
or  is  it  my  sprite  that  says — "  America  has  not  fulfilled 
the  reasonable  expectations  of  mankind.  Men  looked, 
when  all  feudal  straps  and  bandages  were  stripped  asunder, 
that  Nature,  too  long  the  mother  of  dwarfs,  would  reim 
burse  herself  in  a  brood  of  Titans,  who  should  laugh  and 
leap  in  the  continent,  and  run  up  the  mountains  of  the  West 
with  the  errand  of  genius  and  love."  A  very  facetious 
sprite  is  that,  whoever  he  be.  He  reminds  me  of  a  cer 
tain  Talmudic  God,  that  spent  his  time  whittling  sharp 
sticks,  wherewith  he  was  wont  at  his  leisure  to  prick  the 
sides  of  mortals  and  enjoy  their  grimaces.  "  We  have  a 
thousand  authors  of  all  sorts,"  says  Father  Burton,  two 
hundred  years  ago.  But  in  truth  I  have  found  little  to  enter 
tain  me  more  than  "  The  Loves  of  Osmund  and  Duraxa," 
I  saw  in  Boston  some  years  since.  So  I  must  conclude 
myself  a  mere  block  that  is  affected  by  none  of  them,  ac 
cording  to  the  writer  aforesaid,  As  soon  as  Napoleon 
finds  his  quietus,  I  hope  the  world  will  take  breath  again, 
and  somebody  be  moved  to  write  a  good  book  here  in 
America. 

We  have  had  our  crosses  frequent  and  severe,  individual 
and  corporate,  personal  and  social.  The  last  the  Town 
was  called  to  endure  fell  out  in  this  wise.  The  following 
appeared  in  the  Kidderminster  Chronicle  : — 

"Livingston. — We    have   long  kept   silence  about  the 


REFORMS    GRADUAL.  301 

movements  in  this  place  ;  but  the  matter  has  become  too 
public  to  excuse  any  further  negligence.  Over  the  Red 
Dragon  of  Infidelity  they  have  drawn  the  skin  of  the  PapaJ 
Beast,  and  tricked  the  Monster  with  the  trappings  of  Har 
lotry  !  On  the  ruins  of  one  of  our  Churches  they  have 
erected  a  Temple  to  Human  Pride  and  Carnal  Reasoning. 
The  contamination  is  spreading  far  and  wide ;  and  unless 
something  be  attempted,  the  Kingdom  of  God  in  our  midst 
must  soon  be  surrendered  to  the  arts  of  Satan.  It  is 
understood  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  L — ,  of  B — ,  has  openly  and 
repeatedly  exchanged  pulpits  with  the  man  who,  having 
denied  his  Lord  and  Master,  they  have  had  the  hardihood 
to  invest  with  the  robes  of  the  Christian  Office.  Brethren, 
shall  we  sleep,  while  the  enemy  is  sowing  tares  in  our 
midst  ?  CLERICUS." 

A  convention  of  Clergy  was  soon  called  at  Kiddermin 
ster,  before  which  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lovers,  of  Brandon,  the 
gentleman  alluded  to,  was  summoned.  He  had  made  three 
or  four  exchanges  with  the  Bishop.  His  prosecutor  was 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Orstead,  of  Windenboro',  who  wrote  the 
notice  for  the  paper.  The  trial  went  on  two  or  three  days. 
The  council  was  divided  on  the  question  of  withdrawing 
fellowship  from  Mr.  Lovers,  suspending  or  deposing  him. 
But  their  meeting  was  brought  to  a  conclusion  in  an  un 
foreseen  way.  While  they  were  debating  what  to  do,  an 
accuser  appeared  against  Mr.  Orstead,  in  the  person  of  an 
unmarried  female,  who  charged  upon  him  a  child  she  had 
recently  borne.  His  guilt  was  so  far  proved,  that  he  con 
fessed  it.  Mr.  Lovers  was  saved,  and  Mr.  Orstead  degrad 
ed.  The  unhappy  man,  despised  at  home,  Edward  went 
to  see,  and  invited  him  to  Livingston,  where  he  has  spent 
some  months ;  and  I  hope  has  become  a  better  man. 

During  the  excitement  this  affair  gave  our  people,  Dr. 

VOL.  n.  26 


302  MARGARET. 

Freeman  came  to  see  us  and  renew  those  condolences  and 
sympathies  he  has  so  often  expressed  for  us.  While  at  our 
house,  he  told  me  this  story.  When  the  Dutch  in  Albany, 
some  years  since,  would  renew  and  enlarge  their  Church, 
they  suffered  the  old  one  to  remain,  and  erected  the  new 
one  about  it,  completely  enclosing  it.  Their  worship  con 
tinued  in  the  old  place  till  the  new  house  was  nearly  done. 
They  then  tore  the  old  Church  to  pieces,  and  carried  the 
fragments  out  of  the  door  of  the  new  one,  into  the  finishing 
of  which  they  entered.  *'  Great  reforms,"  continued  the 
Doctor,  "  must  be  gradual.  It  is  easier  to  tear  down  than 
to  build  up  ;  easier  to  remove  an  error  than  supply  a  truth. 
Rome  was  not  built  in  a  day.  There  are  more  Alarics 
than  Romuluses  in  the  world."  This  is  a  good  story,  and 
you  have  it  for  what  it  is  worth.  "  But  I  see,"  said  the 
Doctor,  "  you  have  built  up  far  more  than  you  ever  pulled 
down."  I  replied  that  we  had  not  sought  to  pull  down 
any  thing,  but  rather  to  put  life  into  what  was  dead,  and 
reinstate  Christ  in  his  own  Church.  He  agreed  that  it 
was  so. 

As  regards  those  who  oppose  us,  could  we,  as  did  Nicho 
las  Sture,  that  Swede  who,  when  he  was  stabbed  by  his 
Sovereign,  drew  out  the  sword,  kissed  it,  and  returned  it ; 
could  we  so  meet  all  attacks,  happy  were  we.  "  Tell  me 
how  I  may  be  revenged  on  my  enemy  ?  "  said  some  one  t) 
Diogenes.  "  By  becoming  more  virtuous,"  replied  the 
philosopher.  We  are  charged  with  Infidelity  !  Will  un- 
kindness,  traducement,  insinuation,  bleardness,  never  cease  ? 
Anaxagoras,  the  most  religious  of  Philosophers,  was  perse 
cuted  for  profanity ;  Socrates  was  condemned  lor  a 
heretic ;  Christ  himself  was  executed  as  a  blasphemer, 
impostor  and  insurgent !  When  Pyrrho,  who  professed 
indifference  to  all  evils,  was  reproached  for  driving  off  a 


REFORMS    GRADUAL.  803 

dog  that  flew  at  him,  "  Ah,"  replied  he,  "  it  is  difficult  to 
bear  every  thing !  "  So  indeed  it  is  ;  but  as  he  added, 
"We  must  try."  The  Athenians  constructed  a  statue  from 
the  marble  which  the  Persians  brought  to  raise  as  a  monu 
ment  to  their  victories.  We  will  make  no  ovation  out  of 
this  signal  defeat  of  our  enemies ;  I  feel  disposed  the  rather 
to  weep  over  human  follies. 

What  will  become  of  us  ?  If  we  trust  in  God,  we  have 
his  promise,  that  the  waters  shall  not  overflow  us,  or  the 
fire  burn  us.  We  abide  under  the  shadow  of  his  wing. 
That  a  great  work  has  been  done  here  none  can  deny.  It 
is  said  that  certain  fish,  when  brought  to  the  surface  of  the 
water,  sometimes  burst  from  the  rarefaction  of  the  air. 
Livingston  has  been  raised  from  lowest  depths.  Yet  it 
seems  to  me  so  compact  in  all  its  proportions,  that  it  can 
not  fall  asunder.  The  world  may  wholly  leave  us ;  but 
the  thrush  sings  sweetest  in  the  loneliest  woods,  and  we 
will  keep  up  our  song  in  solitude.  The  Spartans  were 
forbidden  to  pursue  a  flying  foe  ;  we  shall  not  follow  our 
retreating  enemies  with  any  intent  to  kill ;  nor  shall  we 
turn  our  backs  upon  them  if  they  rally  again. 

Orpheus  has  seemed  to  me  a  natural  prophecy  of  Christ ; 
a  part  of  the  groaning  of  the  creation  after  the  Redemp 
tion.  By  the  sweetness  of  his  music  he  drew  the  wild 
beasts  after  him  ;  he  caused  trees  and  rocks  to  move ;  his 
strains  subdued  the  rulers  of  Hell ;  through  the  charms  of 
his  melody  the  wheel  of  Ixion  stopped,  and  even  the  furies 
relented.  His  music  was  at  last  drowned  by  a  hoarse,  dis 
cordant  horn.  He  was  himself,  too,  torn  in  pieces,  and  the 
river  Helicon,  sacred  to  him,  hid  itself  under  ground.  Our 
Pond  I  used  to  call  the  Lake  of  Orpheus,  at  the  Master's 
suggestion  that  here  those  waters  had  risen.  I  have  since 
called  it  the  Lake  of  Christ.  Such  Orphean  music  was  he ! 


304  MARGARET. 

He  drew  after  him  a  whole  age.  He  stilled  the  fury  of 
man  and  the  malice  of  devils.  Some  hoarse,  discordant 
horn  was  raised  in  the  Church  ;  his  music  was  quenched  ; 
he  was  torn  in  pieces ;  his  waters  hid  under  the  earth, 
as  I  would  fain  fancy,  have  appeared  on  Mons  Christi ! 
Whither  now  shall  the  Christian  Helicon  flow  ? 


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